Gemotions

The chipped mug nearly flew from Elias's hand as he slammed it onto the diner table. Across from him, Sarah was all smiles, recounting some anecdote about a fancy “board meeting” she’d supposedly attended. His knuckles were white. He stared at the checkered tablecloth, the cheap plastic a stark contrast to the luxurious office building she claimed to work in.

“So, what did you think of the presentation?” Sarah asked, her voice brimming with a chirpy energy that grated on him. He wanted to shout. He wanted to scream the truth at her, expose the elaborate charade. Instead, he forced a tight smile.

His jaw ached from clenching it so hard. He could barely muster a single word. He felt like his lungs were tightening, each breath a struggle. The waitress approached, and he pointed at the coffeepot, his hand shaking slightly. The coffee smelled like burnt tires. He hated that smell.

“Oh, it was… riveting,” he finally croaked out, his voice a low rasp. Riveting, indeed. He pictured her small apartment, the chipped paint, the secondhand furniture. He wanted to rip her facade to shreds.