Gemotions

The flickering departure board mocked Elara. "Delayed," it sneered in its ugly, pixelated font. Her grandmother’s eightieth birthday. Eightieth! And she was stuck, fuming, in this overpriced airport purgatory. She refused to even *consider* the alternative routes the frazzled airline representative had suggested. Driving? Out of the question. Changing planes? Absolutely not. This was *her* flight, and it was going. Period. Her jaw tightened as she marched towards the duty-free shop, intending to buy the most expensive bottle of champagne she could find and drink the whole thing, just to spite the universe.