Gemotions

The flickering departure board mocked Elara. Flight 427, to Boston, delayed. Again. She’d been staring at it for an hour, the digital clock ticking down the minutes that were surely seconds to her. Her brother’s wedding. She was supposed to be there to walk him down the aisle, a promise made years ago, etched into a childhood pact. Now, she was stuck.

A small tremor ran through her, a barely perceptible shudder. She took a deep breath, trying to control the knot that was tightening in her stomach. She pictured her brother’s face, that nervous grin, and felt a pang of sadness.

She picked up her phone and dialed. “Hey, it’s me,” she said, her voice catching. "Just wanted to see if the ceremony has started." After listening, she added, “Well, tell him I’m so sorry. I'm doing everything I can to get there. Tell him I love him." The call ended, and a single tear escaped, tracing a path down her cheek.