Gemotions

The flickering candlelight seemed to mock her, casting distorted shadows on the walls of the restaurant. Across the small table, Ben was reliving their disastrous attempt at gourmet cooking, the memory now a source of endless comedic fodder. He recounted the charred vegetables and the exploding soufflé with theatrical flair.

She, on the other hand, remembered the evening as a valiant effort, a shared experience that had ended in laughter and pizza. She wanted to argue, to defend her contributions, but the words caught in her throat. She felt a growing discomfort.

He clinked his glass to hers, a toast to their culinary fiasco. She could only offer a weak smile, the corners of her mouth twitching. The rich sauce of her pasta suddenly tasted acrid. She swallowed hard, struggling to maintain her composure as he continued to weave his narrative.