Gemotions

Sarah watched Michael laugh, his head thrown back, as he described the "hilarious" incident at the company picnic. He was recounting how he supposedly saved the day, fixing the broken grill. Sarah knew he'd only stood around, grumbling about the heat while she, the one with actual mechanical experience, dismantled and rebuilt the whole thing. Her face was hot.

She stirred her iced tea with unnecessary vigor, the ice clinking loudly against the glass. He had the complete attention of everyone, especially Karen from accounting, who was practically hanging on his every word.

The sun beat down, and suddenly, the picnic felt stifling. Her vision swam for a moment. She felt a tremor in her hands, her fingers flexing. Michael's narrative continued, embellishing the story, painting himself as the hero. It made her stomach churn. She got up, the plastic chair scraping loudly on the patio stones. “Gotta use the restroom,” she muttered, her voice barely a whisper before disappearing into the house.