Gemotions

A tremor ran through Sarah’s hand as she reached for her lukewarm latte. She squeezed the cardboard cup, her knuckles white. Across the table, a man with overly-gelled hair was detailing his latest business deal, a mind-numbingly boring monologue that stretched on and on. She checked her watch again. Fifteen minutes past the agreed time. He, or rather *they* were late. Then, the door opened and in strode the man she'd been expecting, arm-in-arm with another woman. Both were smiling like they had won the lottery. Sarah bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood.