Gemotions

He clenched his fists, knuckles bone-white. The airport's constant noise became a distorted hum, a buzz that drilled into his skull. His son's first baseball game. He had been looking forward to it for months.

He rose from his seat, pacing the small area around his gate. He stopped to glance out the window, watching a jet take off and felt a pang of frustration. He dug his nails into his palms, trying to distract himself.

He kept glancing at his watch, counting down the minutes, each one a hammer blow to his hopes. He felt a strange tingling in his fingertips, like pins and needles. He sat back down, defeated.