Gemotions

The cafe smelled of burnt coffee and something sickly sweet, like cheap perfume. Clara fought the urge to gag. Across the small, metal table, Liam smiled, his eyes crinkling the way she remembered, but the rest of his face was… foreign. "So, about that project," he was saying, oblivious to the churning in her stomach.

She pushed her untouched latte away, the porcelain cold against her clammy hand. He hadn't just forgotten her; he’d erased her. The way he spoke, the easy familiarity in his voice, it felt obscene, like he was wearing someone else's skin.

"Sounds... interesting," she managed, her voice tight. The fluorescent lights overhead seemed to buzz, amplifying the sound of his voice until it was a physical pressure against her skull. She wanted to bolt.