Gemotions

A restless energy filled David as he sat in the almost-empty art gallery. The exhibit, a series of minimalist paintings, did nothing to hold his attention. He shifted in his seat, his gaze flitting from one sterile white wall to another. This date, curated by a dating app, was going precisely as he'd expected: poorly. Sarah, his companion, had vanished into the bathroom. He drummed his fingers on his knee, a rhythmic tap against the silence. It was all so… bland.

He felt a pull in his pocket. A message. It was her, again. Sarah was telling him about the exhibition, and how much he was going to love it. He sighed internally.

When Sarah returned, her face was bright, full of enthusiasm for the art. He feigned interest, asking a series of shallow questions. He caught a glimpse of his own reflection in a nearby painting – a stranger, distant and detached.

A few hours later, at a casual pub, he was discussing the date with a man. He had mentioned the exhibit previously. “Yeah,” said the man, his eyes narrowing slightly. “She told me the same thing. Exact same thing.”