Gemotions

He shoved the offending novel across the table, the paperback sliding to a stop near the edge. The cafe buzzed around him, but he was deaf to the chatter, oblivious to the barista wiping down the counter. All he could focus on was the betrayal printed on the pages before him. His heart hammered in his chest, a frantic drumbeat against his ribs.

His lunch sat untouched, a half-eaten sandwich growing stale. He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it until it stood on end. He felt a surge of heat, a flush rising on his cheeks. He wanted to scream, to lash out, to do something – anything – to alleviate the pressure building inside him. The words, so familiar, so *his*, now belonged to someone else.