Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of the pub, mirroring the storm inside me. I stared at Sarah, across the dim table, as she detailed her "international corporate law" trip. Her voice was like honey, smooth and cloying. Every syllable grated.

She'd 'accidentally' let slip the name of the law firm last week and I, remembering that her only job history involved a short stint at a local dry cleaners, took a look online. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

My fingers drummed a frantic rhythm against the sticky wood. She was describing a fancy dinner, a meeting with a "very important client," a crucial deal. The vivid details felt like a personal insult. I imagined her, alone, in her tiny flat, probably watching cheap reality television. The thought made my teeth clench.

“That sounds… fascinating,” I finally managed, my voice strained. I watched the way her eyes lit up, the way she puffed out her chest with pride.