Gemotions

The flickering airport monitor cast a sickly green glow on Elara’s face. Her fingers drummed a frantic rhythm against the worn armrest of the plastic chair. Damn this delay. Her grandmother’s 80th birthday. A milestone she'd promised to be at. Now, a mountain of missed calls and unanswered messages sat like a lead weight in her stomach.

She stared out the window at the runway, watching a plane take off. Freedom. That's what it looked like. Just a few hours. That was all it would take to be there. Why couldn't her plane just *go*? She closed her eyes, picturing her grandmother’s face, etched with wrinkles of a long, full life. A twinge of guilt, sharp and sudden, pierced her.

The airport announcements blurred into white noise. Each passing minute chipped away at her resolve, at her carefully constructed facade of optimism. She rested her forehead against the cool glass, feeling the vibration of a departing jet against her skin.