Gemotions

The flickering gaslight cast elongated shadows across the damp alley as Elias clutched the crumpled receipt. His knuckles were white. The scent of stale beer and something vaguely metallic made his stomach churn. He’d recognized the perfume instantly, the one that had clung to his own clothes after their last date. He felt the blood draining from his face, leaving him cold.

He’d almost missed the woman across the table earlier, the one with the exact same shade of lipstick, mouthing the same endearments to the waiter. Now, reading the address on the bill, he understood. His own date had been at that very restaurant, just three weeks prior. He moved, step by reluctant step, toward the address.

His breath hitched. The front door of the building stood ajar. A single lamp illuminated the entry hall, and the faint sound of laughter drifted out. His chest tightened. He wanted to go home, to disappear, but the certainty that he needed to know was a vise around his ribs.