Gemotions

"This can't be happening," whispered Michael. His voice was raspy. His daughter's recital. He had promised to be there, promised to be in the front row. Now, stuck here, he felt a wave of nausea.

He stared at the departures board, his vision blurring. He felt a pressure building behind his eyes, a tightness in his chest. Each minute that passed only served to amplify his unease.

Michael walked away from the gate, and leaned against a wall. The cold surface of the concrete against his back did nothing to soothe his disquiet. The thought of his daughter’s disappointment caused his stomach to churn. He had to think of something.