Gemotions

The cafe air, usually smelling of cinnamon and promise, suddenly felt thick, cloying. Amelia squeezed her coffee cup so hard her knuckles were white. Across the small, round table, a woman with a cascade of auburn hair was saying something about "Daniel's amazing taste in music." Amelia’s stomach clenched. Daniel? The Daniel she'd been seeing for six months, the Daniel who’d sworn she was the only one? Her breath hitched. The auburn-haired woman pulled out her phone, showing a photo of Daniel laughing, a photo Amelia recognized as having been taken at the beach last weekend, the beach they'd planned a picnic at. Amelia’s fingers went numb.