Gemotions

The flickering departure board mocked Amelia with its persistent red glow. "Delayed." It was a word that felt personally directed, a judgment of her inadequacy. Her best friend’s wedding, the reason for this transatlantic journey, was happening, or had already happened, without her. She ran a hand through her already disheveled hair, the knot in her stomach tightening with each passing minute. *Shouldn't have booked the cheapest flight.* *Should have left earlier.* *Should have been more organized.* The fluorescent lights hummed a low, irritating song above, reflecting the turmoil inside her.

Amelia slumped onto a hard plastic chair, kicking herself for being so foolish as to pack a dress that would wrinkle the moment she sat down, and she could feel the crinkles forming as she sat and waited. Her phone vibrated with a wedding group chat: photos, videos, laughter she wasn’t a part of. She shoved the phone back into her bag, the action a violent dismissal of her own failure.