Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the coffee shop seemed to hum with a frantic energy. I caught myself smoothing the wrinkles on my favorite vintage tee, the one I knew he liked from the profile picture. He was supposed to be here any minute. Miles, my online confidante from the writing group, in person. The thought made my palms sweat.

I practiced a casual wave in the reflection of the window, suddenly acutely aware of every strand of hair out of place. This little cafe, this corner table, had transformed into the most significant setting in the world. I ordered an extra shot of espresso, needing something to steady the tremor in my hands.

The bell above the door chimed. I froze. A tall figure, all lanky limbs and a shy smile, scanned the room. He spotted me, his face lighting up. My breath caught. He was even better than the carefully curated online version.