Gemotions

The cafe was packed. Amelia tapped her manicured nails on the sticky tabletop, each tap a tiny drumbeat against the rising tide of her irritation. She glanced at her watch for the tenth time in as many minutes. He was late, again. The last text promised a swift arrival, but the only thing arriving so far was the aroma of burnt coffee. She considered calling, but decided against it. She didn't want to seem needy. But the little clock hands seemed to slow down every time she glanced. She felt a heat rising in her chest, and she wished she’d picked a more spacious venue.