Gemotions

The chipped ceramic mug felt slick in Maya's hand. She gripped it tighter, knuckles bone-white. Steam curled upwards, carrying the scent of chamomile, a tea she’d specifically requested to calm herself. It was doing the opposite. This cafe, with its mismatched furniture and string lights, was supposed to be a romantic spot. It was supposed to be *hers* and David’s romantic spot. Now, it was a backdrop to her humiliation. Across the tiny table, another woman, Sarah, sipped from an identical mug, eyes narrowed, jaw tight.

Sarah had the same bewildered expression that Maya was sure she was wearing. The waitress, bless her heart, had just explained that “David” had booked the table for them both, and that she'd just given David both their numbers. The entire situation was maddening.

Maya slammed the mug down. The sound echoed in the sudden quiet. "I… I can't believe this," she managed, her voice strained. She felt a tremor in her hands.