Gemotions

The coffee shop was their place. The scent of roasted beans, the soft murmur of conversations, had always soothed him. Today, however, it was a torture chamber. He watched her across the table, her eyes shining, her smile directed at the man next to her. A man he recognized instantly.

His coffee turned cold in his hands. He felt a wave of nausea. He took another sip, the bitter taste burning on his tongue. They talked, their voices low, but he couldn't hear their words. He felt an intense need to leave, to escape the suffocating atmosphere. He couldn't. He was trapped.