Gemotions

"So, what time are you leaving?" Sarah's voice was bright, chirpy. Her excitement grated on Mark's nerves. They were both turning thirty today, and while Sarah was hosting a brunch with mimosas and sunshine, he’d planned a low-key poker night at his place. He had told her that the brunch sounded good but he had already made plans.

He glanced at her, her face flushed with enthusiasm. Her energy usually was infectious, but right now, it just felt...loud. He had woken up with a tightness in his chest, a feeling he couldn’t seem to shake. He felt trapped and irritable. He looked out the window, at the gray clouds that mirrored his mood.

“Whenever,” he mumbled, avoiding her gaze. He picked at a loose thread on the sofa cushion, a useless, distracting activity. He thought about canceling, about going somewhere, anywhere, to be alone. He imagined the clinking of glasses, the forced joviality, and a fresh wave of that feeling washed over him. He knew he had to go, because she would know if he didn't.