Gemotions

The phone slipped from Elias's sweaty grip, clattering onto the worn wooden table. He stared at the screen, heart hammering against his ribs. The message: "Meet me at the usual spot. Tonight." was directed to... *his mother*. His mother, who thought he was working late, not, well, *this*. His palms prickled with a cold sweat. He snatched up the phone, swiping to delete the message, but his fingers fumbled. He had to think, think quickly.

He jumped to his feet, pacing the cramped apartment. His stomach churned. He had a perfectly crafted alibi for tonight, and now… this. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands. He needed to find a way to fix this, to explain, to… God, he didn’t know.

The silence of the apartment felt deafening. He considered calling her, but his throat constricted. What would he even *say*? He collapsed onto the sofa, the plush cushions offering no comfort. The image of his mother reading the message, her confusion, her disappointment – it was a weight pressing down on him.