Gemotions

“Oh my god,” she breathed, the words barely audible. The words were not aimed at her friend, but at the man who had just entered the restaurant, a man she had considered hers. He was walking in, hand-in-hand with someone she hadn't seen before.

Her face flushed crimson. She could feel every pulse in her body, a frantic drumbeat against her skin. The silverware on the table clattered, as if in sympathy. Her friend was speaking, but the words were lost in a roaring silence.

The man, she realized with horror, was wearing her scarf. His eyes met hers, and her face went numb. She struggled to speak, but her tongue felt like lead.