Gemotions

She pushed at the stubbornly stuck door of the café, the bell above it offering no cheer whatsoever. "Honestly," Clara thought, her jaw tight. The barista, a young woman with too much eyeliner, offered a chipper "Good morning!" Clara merely grunted, scanning the pastry case with a critical eye.

Across the small table, Liam was already digging into a croissant, oblivious. He was reliving their trip to the art museum last year, specifically the piece by Rothko. Liam was going on about the subtle nuances of color, the way the light played across the canvas.

"I remember thinking it was…a big blur," Clara said finally, her voice flat. She really didn't. They were in a dark and dusty room full of people. Liam gave her a patient look. “No, it was the blue one, the one on the top right. You loved it!” he insisted, with a smile. She took a sip of her coffee, the bitterness of it almost welcome.