Gemotions

Michael drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, the rhythm erratic against the silence of the car. Sarah’s party, a rooftop bash with music and dancing, or David’s, a quiet dinner at a new Italian restaurant. Both vying for his attention. He glanced at the passenger seat, now empty, imagining her sitting there, talking, laughing. This choice was making his chest tighten, his breath coming in short bursts.

He imagined the way Sarah's dress would shimmer under the city lights. He thought of her hands on his shoulders as they danced. He swallowed, his throat dry. The thought of that closeness made him want to pull over immediately. The drive seemed impossibly long.

Later that evening, the prospect of the dinner with David felt suddenly unbearable. He could picture David’s casual confidence, the way he would lean in, the way he would laugh at his jokes. The image made him strangely unsettled. He picked up his phone, his thumb hovering over Sarah’s contact.