Gemotions

The cramped, dimly lit pub amplified the throb in Finn’s head. Across the table, Mark, his oldest friend, recounted a story involving a new girlfriend with a level of enthusiasm that felt… wrong. He’d never seen him so animated, so openly unguarded.

The beer tasted bitter, each swallow bringing a fresh wave of heat to his chest. He felt like the room was closing in, the thick air clinging to him like a shroud.

"That's… great," Finn croaked, the words thick with something other than alcohol. He wanted to shatter the scene, to tear it apart and start again, but the thought of confrontation was too awful to bear. He needed to disappear.