Gemotions

“You’re kidding, right?” I blurted out, my voice laced with disbelief. Across the table, Mark avoided my gaze, picking at a loose piece of wood on the picnic table. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows, but the warmth did nothing to soothe the sudden chill that had settled in my bones.

He finally looked up, offering a weak smile. "I wish I was." The words hung in the air, heavy and unwelcome. I found myself pushing my chair back, the legs scraping against the concrete.

The sound grated on my ears. I took a deep breath, the air feeling thin and unsatisfying. The view from the park, which usually soothed me, suddenly felt claustrophobic.

“When?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.