Gemotions

He was there, towering over the small table laden with canapés. A muscle in David's jaw jumped as he saw her. He had known, logically, that seeing Emily again was a distinct possibility. They shared too many friends, too many overlapping circles. But logic offered no defense against the sudden, dizzying drop in his chest.

His carefully constructed facade of joviality crumbled. He fumbled with a mini quiche, dropping it onto the pristine white tablecloth. Mortified, he mumbled an apology to the passing waiter, the words catching in his throat.

He wanted to disappear, to teleport himself back to the relative safety of his apartment. Instead, he forced himself to take a deep breath. He grabbed a napkin and pretended to clean up the mess. The wedding band started playing a slow song, the melody a mournful echo of the past.