Gemotions

The sports bar buzzed with noise and the scent of stale beer. As Mark recounted the disastrous baseball game, his words a playful jab, she found herself shrinking into the booth. His version cast her as a clumsy hazard, the reason for their team's defeat.

His laughter was grating. She’d always recalled the game with a sort of fond embarrassment, not a crushing sense of inadequacy. Now, his narrative painted a portrait of utter incompetence. Her face burned.

She picked at the label on her beer, feeling the cold condensation against her fingertips. She avoided his eye. The roaring crowd suddenly felt hostile, and she wished she could simply disappear into the noise.