Gemotions

"That was quite the night, wasn't it?" John said, beaming. He clinked his glass against Susan's, a gesture she couldn't bring herself to reciprocate. Susan remembered the fight, the screaming, the way John had stormed out. She remembered her own vulnerability and the way he’d later dismissed it all, as if she had imagined it. Now, he sat here, attempting to rewrite history, the perfect picture of contrition. She felt a tremor in her hands, her fingers flexing and unflexing. The music in the restaurant seemed too loud, the laughter of other diners grating on her nerves. “Yes,” she said finally, her voice colder than the ice in her drink.