Gemotions

He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, the gesture more frantic than calming. The gate agent's placid face offered no solace. "Mechanical issues," she’d said, her voice devoid of emotion. His grandfather's funeral. He was supposed to be delivering the eulogy.

His stomach churned, a cold knot tightening with each passing minute. The airport's cheerful holiday decorations felt mocking. He felt a desperate urge to pace, but the crowded terminal offered no room. Instead, he stared at the window, watching a plane take off into the cerulean sky.

He pulled out his phone, re-reading the text message from his brother, a simple, "We're waiting." The weight of it pressed down on him, heavy and oppressive. He swallowed hard, trying to quell the rising panic. He felt like the ground was tilting beneath his feet.