Gemotions

The cafe smelled of burnt coffee and desperation. Eleanor, perched on a stool, tapped her foot impatiently. She knew "BardicBeast," her online confidant of six months, was late. He'd promised a "casual meetup," a phrase that, in retrospect, had curdled in her stomach the moment she’d read it. It was pouring rain outside, a fitting backdrop for her current mood.

He arrived, breathless and wearing a ridiculous oversized raincoat. His hair was plastered to his forehead. *He* was shorter than his profile picture suggested. His smile, when he offered it, seemed…tremulous. "Sorry I'm late! The bus…" he began, his voice surprisingly high-pitched. Eleanor simply inclined her head, a precise and deliberate movement.

"So," he said, fiddling with a damp napkin, "This is cool, right?" She took a long, slow sip of her lukewarm latte, the silence a weapon. "Right," she finally replied, her tone as flat as the table between them.