Gemotions

The afternoon sun streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. I saw her then, across the room. She was wearing my favorite shirt, the one I'd bought at that vintage shop last week, the one I'd written about in my journal. It felt like a punch.

I clenched my jaw, the muscles in my neck tightening. She was talking animatedly on the phone, laughing. I hated her, I realized, in that moment. Her perfect teeth, her effortless charm, her complete disregard for… for anything.

"Hey," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Can I talk to you for a second?"