Gemotions

The gate agent's placid announcement that the flight was postponed sent a wave of heat up Maya's spine. It wasn't the delay itself; it was the utter lack of apology, the casual indifference to her predicament. She needed to be at the art gallery opening. Her painting, the culmination of years of work, was the centerpiece.

A tremor ran through her hands. She snatched her phone, dialing her best friend's number. The dial tone felt like a mocking echo of her helplessness. "Can you *believe* this?" she said into the phone, her voice strained. She paced back and forth, the cold tile of the airport floor doing little to soothe the growing unease in her stomach.