Gemotions

The Italian restaurant, usually bustling with vibrant chatter, felt cavernous tonight. Amelia pushed her untouched plate of pasta around the table, the sauce congealing at the edges. Liam was late. Again. She’d been looking forward to this, dressing up, feeling hopeful. Now, the anticipation had curdled into a cold, hard knot in her stomach.

She saw the waitress approaching, but before she could speak, a man with kind eyes and a familiar nervous tick, arrived at their table, clearly confused. “Excuse me,” he said, looking at her, “is this seat taken?”

“No,” Amelia said slowly, her voice barely a whisper. Something in the man’s expression, the way he kept glancing at his phone, sent a jolt of alarm through her. It was then, the waiter approached the table with a bottle of wine that Liam had ordered, Amelia and the man realized, they've both been tricked.