Gemotions

He watched the other woman, Sarah, from across the dimly lit bar. The same easy laugh. The same messy bun. The same necklace he'd bought her. He felt a jolt of something akin to fury. His hands clenched into fists, hidden in his pockets.

He'd planned a romantic evening. Now, he felt the plan disintegrating in his grasp. The air in the bar suddenly felt too thick, too stifling. He stood abruptly, knocking over his chair. It clattered to the floor, drawing stares.

“Excuse me,” he muttered, his voice a low growl. He didn't wait for a response. He pushed through the crowd, heading for the exit. He needed air. He needed to be anywhere but there.

Outside, he found a payphone, the kind that still existed, a relic of a past he suddenly longed for. He fished out a quarter and dialed his own number. He wanted to hear the answering machine, the casual, innocent greeting. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. Not ever.