Gemotions

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee, usually a comfort, now felt like a taunt. David, across the small cafe table, recounted a romantic breakfast he'd made for "Rachel." A breakfast identical to the one he had prepared for *his* woman. He stared at his coffee cup, avoiding eye contact. He wanted to vanish.

The words felt like a physical burden, each syllable weighing him down. He fiddled with the sugar packets, lining them up in neat rows. He could feel his face getting hot, a burning sensation spreading up his neck.

David continued to talk, oblivious to the increasing tension. "She loves that little cafe on the corner," he said, mentioning the very place they were currently sitting. David suddenly stood up, and muttered something about needing some air.