Gemotions

He had always insisted on paying, always picked the best restaurants. Now, Clara saw Michael, not in a penthouse office, but emptying bins in the local park. The fancy meals now felt tainted, the generosity hollow.

She felt a wave of nausea, a sudden and overwhelming sense of disillusionment. She’d been charmed, seduced by the illusion of his success. The stories, so carefully crafted, now seemed like a cruel joke.

Michael straightened up, catching her eye. A look of what seemed to be shame flickered across his face. "Clara?"

She wanted to run, to scream. She stood rooted to the spot, a knot of tension constricting her muscles. She finally managed a weak, “Just… passing through.”