Gemotions

“And then,” Emily gushed, her voice like nails on a chalkboard, “the private jet took off.” She was describing her latest “business trip,” complete with a suite at a five-star hotel and a Michelin-starred dinner.

I sat across from her, a knot forming in my stomach. I knew her “business trips” were to the local bingo hall. I’d seen her there, regularly. I knew the truth, and she was acting as if it were a joke.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to quell the rising tide of fury. It was all a complete fabrication. I wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her until the lies spilled out like cheap confetti.

I fumbled with my napkin, my fingers clumsy.