Gemotions

The bustling terminal morphed into a blurry, noisy nightmare. Leo's palms were slick with perspiration. His father's funeral. The plane's delay was a malevolent force, designed to torment him.

He hunched his shoulders, trying to disappear into the anonymity of the crowd. He kept clenching and unclenching his fists, as if to ward off an unseen attacker. He ran the scene through his mind, from the eulogy to the final goodbye, and he imagined the crushing feeling of absence.

The air felt thick, difficult to breathe. He wanted to shout, to break something, to somehow force the plane into the sky. He sank into a nearby chair, his body heavy, his spirit broken. He pulled at his collar, desperately seeking air.