Gemotions

The flickering departure board taunted Elias. Delayed. Again. He drummed his fingers against the cold glass of the observation window, the metallic taste of worry coating his tongue. His cousin's wedding. He’d booked this flight weeks ago, a crucial flight that now seemed destined to leave him stranded. He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, muttering about “technical difficulties” that always seemed to coincide with his schedules. He found the announcements delivered with too much practiced ease.

The airline staff's forced cheerfulness grated on him. "We're doing everything we can," the attendant had chirped, her smile stretched a little too thin. He watched her. Her eyes held no real sympathy, no genuine regret. It felt like she was reading from a well-worn script.

He pulled out his phone, already envisioning the missed vows, the awkward explanations. He wasn’t a believer in fate, or cosmic jokes, or whatever flimsy excuse would be offered up. This was bad planning and poor execution, plain and simple.