Gemotions

"So, you're *really* a pastry chef?" Chloe’s voice cracked slightly. Her friend, David, had always presented himself as a renowned chef, detailing elaborate dishes and restaurant clientele. Now, standing behind the counter of a greasy spoon diner, wiping down sticky tables, his confession hung heavy in the air.

Chloe felt a peculiar heat rising from her chest and up through her neck. She’d bragged about him, to all her friends, to her family, about his culinary prowess. She’d even convinced her grandmother to try his (non-existent) soufflé recipe.

She excused herself to the restroom, her face a fiery red. She leaned over the sink, staring at her own embarrassed reflection. The air felt thick, difficult to breathe.