Gemotions

The sterile white walls of the museum felt suffocating. Amelia traced the edge of the display case, her fingers trembling. Her date, Mark, was gushing over the same artist, the same artwork, the same… everything. She found herself clutching her purse tightly.

She could feel her cheeks flush.

The identical preferences, the mirrored conversations, the shared passion – all carefully orchestrated, all repeated. He'd done this before. He was doing this to her. The carefully crafted illusion of a special connection crumbled into dust. She felt betrayed. She wanted to scream.