Gemotions

The expensive aroma of aftershave hung heavy in the air. Mark, beaming, was regaling the dinner party with tales of his "consulting work" for various high-profile clients. His vocabulary, normally limited, had suddenly expanded to include terms like "synergy" and "paradigm shift."

I watched him, every muscle in my body tight. The wine tasted like vinegar. I knew he was still working at his father’s hardware store. I knew it because I'd driven past the place just yesterday.

I wanted to shout the truth, to expose the sham. I hated the way he preened, the way everyone hung on his every word. I focused on the intricate patterns of the tablecloth, refusing to meet his gaze.

The silence grew heavy as he paused, waiting for the predictable applause. My hands were shaking.