Gemotions

From her seat, Anya watched the rain lash against the airport windows, each droplet a tiny hammer blow against her already fragile state. Her brother was getting married, and she was supposed to be there. Now, the thought of his wedding felt miles away, unreachable. The delay felt like a personal affront.

She drummed her fingers on the armrest, the rhythmic tapping a frantic counterpoint to the growing unease within her. She bit her lip, a habit she'd long tried to break. The absurdity of the situation wrapped around her like a suffocating blanket.

"This can't be happening," she whispered to herself, the sound swallowed by the cavernous terminal. She found herself staring at the ceiling, feeling an inexplicable disorientation.