Gemotions

The expensive champagne bottle sat chilling in the ice bucket, promising an evening of extravagance. He had planned everything: the restaurant, the flowers, the conversation. He had saved for months for this. He wanted Sarah, and he wanted her all to himself.

His phone buzzed. A message: "Running late. Meeting someone. Be there soon! xx"

He slammed the phone down. He felt a surge of frustration. Someone? Who? What could be more important than *their* evening? This carefully constructed experience, designed just for them, was being diluted, potentially stolen.

He paced, unable to bear the thought of sharing her attention.