Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of Maya's tiny apartment, mirroring the turmoil within her. Across the table, Leo, her college roommate, sat sipping his tea, his eyes twinkling with amusement. They were reminiscing about their disastrous attempt to bake a birthday cake for their friend, Sarah.

“And then,” Leo chuckled, “you just dumped the whole bowl of batter on the floor!” He recounted the story with fond indulgence.

Maya picked at a loose thread on the tablecloth, her fingers clumsy. She remembered the sticky, gooey mess, the acrid smell of burnt sugar. But more than that, she remembered how Leo’s eyes had gone cold, how he’d called her careless. She knew she had messed up, that she was clumsy but she felt like she had embarrassed herself. It had been her birthday.

She mumbled something about the recipe being confusing and quickly changed the subject, hoping Leo wouldn’t notice her strained smile. The cake felt like her memory. A mangled mess she wanted to hide.