Gemotions

"Just breathe," David muttered to himself, his voice barely audible above the airport din. He stared at the departure board, the red text of the delay a stark, unwanted message. His father's final days. He clutched his boarding pass in a death grip, the paper crinkling under his pressure.

He remembered his last conversation with his father, a casual phone call he now replayed in his head, searching for any unspoken meaning. He’d been so busy, preoccupied with work. The regrets began to swirl within him.

The harsh fluorescent lights of the terminal seemed to mock him. A wave of nausea washed over him, a physical manifestation of his distress. He closed his eyes, summoning an image of his father’s smile, an image that felt increasingly distant.