Gemotions

From across the restaurant, Clara saw her mother, arms crossed and face a mask of disapproval. The text, a sarcastic rant about her mother’s new boyfriend, a man Clara considered utterly ridiculous, had gone straight to the intended target. Clara had been so engrossed in her rant that she hadn't double-checked the contact. The waitress arrived, but Clara didn't hear her.

Clara felt a flush crawl up her neck, staining her cheeks a furious red. She attempted a weak smile, but it felt frozen on her face. Her mother was heading toward her table. She braced herself for the inevitable lecture, the pointed questions. She wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole.