Gemotions

The flickering television screen offered no solace, just the hollow echoes of canned laughter. Arthur stared at it, the airport’s sterile hum a background to the rising tide of… something… in his chest. He should be in Paris right now, arms wrapped around his daughter, hearing her excited chatter about her first art exhibition. Instead, he was stranded. He rubbed a hand over his tired eyes, the faint sting a physical manifestation of his internal state. A lukewarm coffee sat forgotten on the table, its surface reflecting the harsh fluorescent lights. He sighed, the sound lost in the vast expanse of the departure lounge.