Gemotions

He’d said he was running late, stuck in traffic. Mark paced his tiny apartment, the linoleum floor cold against his bare feet. Each tick of the clock was a hammer blow against his skull. He'd poured the wine and set out the cheese board, all meticulously planned. But now? His stomach churned.

A text message. "Almost there, babe!" It was from the number he knew so well. But then, a notification popped up on his phone: a shared photo album, labelled "Weekend in the Mountains." He tapped it open, his fingers clumsy with a sudden, overwhelming tension.

He didn't need to see the photos to confirm his suspicion. The location, the scenery, the woman's face - all were eerily familiar. He sank onto the sofa, the air seeming to thin around him. He felt a profound sense of pressure, pressing down on him.