Gemotions

The flickering departure board taunted Elias. Six hours. Six hours until the next flight to Chicago, and six hours past his sister's wedding. He slammed his fist on the armrest, the plastic groaning in protest. He’d booked this flight months ago, meticulously planned every detail, and now, this. He imagined the champagne flowing, the laughter, the promises, all happening without him. A vein throbbed in his temple. He wouldn't even get to see her walk down the aisle.

Elias stalked to the nearest coffee shop, the artificial cheer of the music grating on his nerves. He barked an order at the barista, the words sharp and clipped. The lukewarm coffee did nothing to soothe the tightness in his chest. He felt like a coiled spring, ready to snap. He just wanted to be *there*.