Gemotions

Rain lashed against the airport window, mirroring the storm brewing inside Arthur. He stared at the departure board, the dreaded "DELAYED" flashing beside his flight to Edinburgh. His grandmother’s 80th birthday. He pictured her, tiny and vibrant, surrounded by family, and a tightness settled in his chest. He gripped the worn leather of his carry-on, the same bag he’d taken on family holidays as a child. He remembered the smell of his grandfather’s pipe tobacco clinging to it.

He wandered towards a nearly empty newsstand. The scent of ink and paper transported him. He picked up a local paper, the front page story featuring a community garden he'd helped build years ago. He ran his fingers over the headline, a sudden ache in his heart. It felt like a lifetime since he’d felt the sun on his face whilst tending to the earth there. He sat heavily on a bench, the world outside the glass becoming blurred.

He closed his eyes, recalling his grandfather's voice, reading aloud from the newspaper at the kitchen table. He could almost taste the tea his grandmother always made.