Gemotions

The air in the restaurant was thick with the scent of garlic and simmering sauces. He’d envisioned this moment for weeks: the clinking of glasses, the warm glow of candlelight, the joyous faces of his friends. Instead, the table was empty, the waiter’s polite sympathy hanging in the air.

His fingers nervously tapped against the starched white tablecloth. He felt a strange buzzing in his ears. The world seemed to be tilting slightly.

He ordered a glass of wine, then another, the liquid doing little to dispel the hollowness that had consumed him. He felt strangely disconnected, as if observing a scene from the periphery of his own existence.