Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of the coffee shop, mirroring the storm brewing inside Maya. Liam was late, as usual, and the story he was spinning about being stuck in traffic felt thin, almost insulting. She tapped her fingers against the table, a staccato rhythm against the low murmur of the other patrons. The shared memory, a summer trip to the coast, was supposed to be a bonding experience. Now, the recollection of it felt like a battlefield, Liam's version a calculated assault on her own.

"You really don't remember the lighthouse?" she finally asked, her voice tight. Liam, oblivious, was already halfway through his spiel about the "amazing" seafood he'd had. His words, delivered with easy charm, struck her like blows.

She pushed back from the table, the scrape of the chair echoing. His smile faltered, a fleeting flicker of confusion on his face. He’d never understand the core of what had been and what it was now.