Gemotions

The steak tasted like ash. I watched Jessica across the table, her face illuminated by candlelight, explaining the "challenges" of her "high-powered" legal career. The expensive restaurant, the impeccable service, felt like a cruel joke.

I knew the truth. I knew she'd spent the last year working as a paralegal, barely scraping by. The lie, the deceit, was a physical weight, pressing down on me.

I forced a smile, my cheeks aching. Every word she spoke grated on my nerves. I wanted to tell her, to strip away the facade, to expose her dishonesty.

The waiter cleared the plates. I wanted to throw mine at the wall.