Gemotions

The gentle vibration of the train had become a source of comfort for Michael, it was his preferred method of travel. Today he was on his way to see his son's graduation. He watched the world blur past. He was nestled in his seat, a book in his lap, the rhythmic clatter of the train against the tracks a constant presence. He was where he was supposed to be.

An automated announcement declared a service disruption. Michael's fingers tightened on the spine of his book. He leaned forward, trying to discern the details. The conductor's voice, usually a soothing cadence, now held a hint of unease.

The hours crawled by. The platform became a flurry of frustrated passengers. Michael felt a slow, growing pressure in his chest, a sensation he couldn't quite name.