Gemotions

The bookstore, normally a place of solace, now felt like a cage. Oliver stared at the stack of books in front of him, unable to focus. Across the small table, a man named Ethan was describing “Lisa’s” love of poetry. Oliver had spent the last two weekends at poetry readings with *his* Lisa. His cheeks burned.

He felt the unwelcome, prickly sensation of sweat beading on his forehead. He ran a hand through his hair, dislodging his glasses. Ethan continued, oblivious, describing a recent purchase – a first edition of Oliver’s favorite poet. Oliver felt a wave of nausea.

"She says she's never seen a book she loved more," Ethan declared, smiling. Oliver picked up a book and pretended to read. He wanted the earth to swallow him whole. His hands trembled as he turned the page.