Gemotions

The vast, echoing concourse amplified her isolation. Margaret’s stomach churned with a mixture of anger and despair. The gallery opening, showcasing her life’s work, was fast approaching, and she remained stranded.

She wandered aimlessly through the duty-free shops, the bright lights and excessive displays doing little to lift her mood. The scent of perfume was cloying, the music grating.

She fiddled with her bracelet, the cool metal offering no solace. She imagined the buzz of the event, the admiring glances, the praise. The stark reality of her absence felt like a cruel joke.