Guilt

The peppy girl in tight yoga pants sips on her overpriced hot coffee. She says something while scrolling through her phone.  The middle-aged man sitting opposite her nods with a disinterested groan. He glances at the other patrons sitting around him.  His brow furrows. A knot forms in his gut. Looking at his watch, he has a few hours before his flight. He rubs the indentation in the skin around the base of his ring finger.  Gripping his similarly overpriced iced coffee tightly, he lets the cold numb his fingers. “You ready?” he asks.