Gemotions

The cafe buzzed with Friday evening chatter, but Amelia barely registered it. She stirred her latte, the spoon clinking softly against the ceramic. Her date, David, had been late again. He’d apologized profusely, claiming a last-minute work emergency. She simply offered a small, accepting smile, a gesture she’d perfected.

David launched into a story about a frustrating client, his voice rising with theatrical indignation. Amelia listened, nodding at appropriate intervals, her hands folded neatly in her lap. A faint ache thrummed behind her eyes.

"And then," David finished, "he had the audacity to suggest..." He stopped, noticing the lack of response. "Amelia? You alright?" She blinked, then gave a small, almost apologetic shrug. "Just a bit tired, I think."