Gemotions

The cafe air, normally a comforting aroma of coffee and cinnamon, felt thin and strange. Sarah stared at the woman across the small, wrought-iron table. The woman, who introduced herself as Emily, was recounting a hilarious story about a disastrous camping trip. The details – the leaky tent, the burnt marshmallows, the incessant chirping of crickets – were identical to the ones David had told her last week. Sarah’s breath hitched. A tremor ran through her, starting at her toes. She clutched her iced latte a little tighter, the condensation suddenly icy against her palm. “And… he told you all of this?” she managed, her voice barely a whisper. Emily nodded, her eyes sparkling. “Oh, yes. David’s a terrible camper, but a great storyteller.”