Gemotions

"Damn it," she muttered under her breath. Emily stared at the departure screen, the blinking red letters a constant assault on her already frayed nerves. She was meant to be at her daughter’s graduation. A lifetime of effort, and now she was going to miss it.

The terminal air felt thick, heavy. She felt a burning behind her eyes, the familiar sting of tears she refused to shed in public. This moment was supposed to be hers. Her. And now it was slipping through her fingers like sand.

She slumped onto a bench, her shoulders hunched. The rhythmic drone of the announcements and the endless chatter of the other passengers began to sound like a distant, distorted noise.