Gemotions

The coffee cup trembled in Sarah's hand. She’d just left a meeting with Mark, her supposed colleague at the advertising agency. He'd been late, flustered, and had stammered excuses about a "client emergency." Then, she'd seen him. Through the window of a nearby cafe, Mark was laughing with a group of people, dressed in a faded band t-shirt, clearly not rushing off to any business appointment.

She took a large gulp of the lukewarm liquid. It did little to soothe the tightness in her throat. The carefully constructed image of him, the professional, the go-getter, began to unravel, thread by thread. The realization hit her with a sudden force, leaving her breathless.

She felt a strange tension building in her muscles, a need to move, to understand. She quickly set down the cup and grabbed her coat, the texture of the fabric against her fingertips a small distraction.