Gemotions

The silence of the departure lounge was deafening to Clara. She sat with her arms crossed, her eyes fixed on the distant runway, the tarmac a dull, grey expanse. She missed her grandfather’s funeral. The news had hit her hard, and now, trapped in a purgatory of delayed flights, she was missing the chance to say goodbye.

Her hands were clasped so tightly her knuckles were white. The airport's cheerful announcements felt like an intrusion, a mocking chorus of normalcy that she couldn’t share. She wished for the flight to simply *happen*, to escape this suffocating place.