Gemotions

The gate agent's calm demeanor grated on his nerves. He was late for a job interview, the culmination of years of hard work. Now, this… this was sabotage. The delay stretched on, each announcement a fresh insult.

He began to interpret the coded language of the flight board. "Delayed" was a lie. He tried to think if he had said the wrong thing to someone. Every movement seemed to be a deliberate taunt. He scanned the room, looking for a culprit, someone who reveled in his suffering.

He kept glancing at his watch. The hands were mocking him. He muttered beneath his breath, trying to control the tremor in his hands. He felt a bead of sweat trickle down his temple. The air conditioning was failing. He pulled at his collar.