Gemotions

The cafe air, thick with the aroma of roasted beans, suddenly felt thin and strange. Sarah watched Mark across the small table, his face tilted in polite confusion. He was charming, of course, the same easy smile she remembered, but the eyes, those familiar, playful eyes, held only a polite vacancy. He didn't know her.

She'd rehearsed this meeting a hundred times in her head. A warm embrace, a shared laugh over old jokes, the easy comfort of decades-long friendship. Instead, she sat here, ice hardening in her gut, as he politely asked, "So, what did you say your connection to the firm was again?"

A tremor ran through her hands. She gripped her latte, the ceramic cold against her skin.