Gemotions

The park bench felt cold beneath Clara’s hands. Across from her, Daniel, her best friend, sat hunched over. She’d learned he wasn't a renowned architect, as he’d always claimed. Instead, he worked as a draftsman. She knew the hours he put in, the stress he went through.

The setting sun cast long shadows, painting the park in hues of orange and purple. The beauty around her felt muted, overshadowed by the weight in the air. She wanted to yell, ask why the lies. She was more concerned with the way he wouldn't meet her eyes.

"It’s okay," she said softly, but the words sounded hollow. She needed to tell him that she saw him, the real him, and that it was okay.