Gemotions

A wave of heat washed over Michael as he spotted Sarah. His carefully chosen tie suddenly felt like a noose, choking him. He gripped the back of a chair for balance, the polished wood cold beneath his sweating palms. He wished the room would swallow him whole.

“Michael, darling, you look pale. Are you alright?” His date, a bubbly marketing executive, peered at him with concern. He forced a chuckle, hoping it sounded convincing. “Just a little warm, that’s all.” He hoped he was right.

He watched Sarah interact with the bride, her laughter ringing through the crowded reception hall. He remembered that laugh, its melody, its cadence. He remembered everything. He needed to disappear. He excused himself, making a hasty exit toward the men's room, needing a moment to recompose himself.