Ella
The buzzing of the airport around me felt as if it was compounding my already mounting stress.
I always hated airports. To me, they were nothing but anxiety-inducing cacophonies of shuffling feet, murmured conversations, and the repetitive announcements coming through the loudspeakers.
Like a caged animal, I paced back and forth in the lobby, my eyes flicking every few seconds to the large digital clock overhead. The numbers shifted relentlessly: 9:22 a.m.
Logan was late. We were going to be late. Everything felt late, and everything would be ruined. I’d have to cancel my trip to visit my parents. I’d lose my money on my tickets. All of this stress would be for nothing.
I ran my hand through my hair, exhaling deeply. My anxiety manifested itself as a dull ache i
