Gemotions

"So, the… aerospace engineering job is going well, then?" David asked, his voice deliberately casual. Across the table, James, his "rocket scientist" friend, speared a cherry tomato with his fork, avoiding eye contact. He knew.

The restaurant, once a place of shared laughter and camaraderie, now felt like a cage. The clinking of cutlery, the murmur of other conversations, grated on his nerves.

He felt a tremor start in his jaw, working its way down his neck. The sheer audacity of James's elaborate fiction, the years of manufactured prestige, was infuriating.

David took a large sip of his wine, the taste bitter on his tongue. He had always believed in James. Now, the foundation of their friendship felt like it had been built on sand. He wanted to stand up, throw the wine in his face, and walk away.