Gemotions

The voicemail crackled in her ear, a smooth, practiced voice promising a romantic dinner for two. Dinner for *two*! Her fingers, usually adept at typing, fumbled with the phone, nearly dropping it as she paced her apartment. Her apartment! He'd told her he was working on a project, staying at his place. He had, apparently, no place. The blood pounded in her temples, a relentless drumbeat against her skull. She ripped the calendar from the fridge, crumpling it in her hand, the paper tearing under her intense grip. The sheer, utter disrespect left her breathless.