Gemotions

The flickering departure board taunted Elias. Delayed. Again. He’d been glaring at it for the better part of an hour, jaw clenched so tight he felt a headache blooming behind his eyes. He’d told the airline agent, with a sharp edge to his voice, that he *had* to be at his sister’s wedding rehearsal. “There are no other flights?” he’d demanded, his hands planted firmly on the counter. The agent, a young woman with kind eyes, had suggested alternatives, different airlines, connecting flights. Elias had dismissed them all with a curt shake of his head. He had made a plan, and the plan involved *this* flight. He would not deviate.