Gemotions

The floral arrangement on the table blurred through David's watering eyes. He blinked, trying to focus, but the image remained distorted, like looking through a funhouse mirror. He'd known he might see her, of course, but the actual moment of encountering Emily had been a gut punch.

He’d taken a bite of the salmon. He couldn't remember the taste. Now, his fork clattered against the plate as if he’d been startled, his hand shaking. Her voice, from across the room, was like a needle piercing his carefully constructed composure.

He abruptly stood up, knocking his chair back with a loud thud. The noise echoed in the sudden hush. He muttered something about needing air, and stumbled towards the exit. He felt utterly exposed, vulnerable, as if everyone in the room could see the raw, jagged edges of his pain.