Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of the airport terminal, mirroring the tempest brewing inside Michael. His grandmother's funeral. He clutched the worn photograph of her in his hand, the edges softened with time and use. Every moment felt a knife twisting in his gut.

He watched the other passengers, the rushed movements, the hurried conversations. He envied their simple plans, the casual ease with which they went about their days. His own world felt fractured, broken.

He approached the customer service desk, his shoulders slumped. The airline employee looked up, her expression strained. "I understand," she said, before he could speak, her voice low. “We are doing all that we can to get you to your destination as soon as possible.” Michael nodded, feeling a well of emotion.