Gemotions

A bead of sweat trickled down Maya's temple. Her carefully applied lipstick felt smeared and sticky. The music, a lively rendition of "I'm Yours," suddenly sounded like a death knell. She'd walked in, confident, ready to celebrate her friend's nuptials, and then... *him*. Mark. Standing by the gift table, chatting animatedly with the bride's cousin.

She considered fleeing, disappearing into the crowded dance floor, or perhaps hiding in the restroom. Anything to avoid the inevitable. He’d seen her. He was walking toward her. Her palms grew clammy. She willed her legs to move, to turn and walk away, but they were lead weights.

"Maya, hi," he said, his voice as smooth as ever. "You look… great." The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken history. She could only manage a mumbled "You too." The meticulously constructed persona she had cultivated since their breakup evaporated, leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable.