Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of the coffee shop, mirroring the storm brewing inside David. He’d just seen Michael, his supposed head chef friend, at the local grocery store, stocking shelves. Not, as Michael had claimed, overseeing a Michelin-starred restaurant. The lies felt like a physical blow.

He balled his hands into fists, knuckles white. The barista called out his latte order, but he didn’t move. The world had gone blurry around the edges. He could barely stand to look at the man's lies. The years of shared meals and restaurant gossip were all tainted, poisoned by the deception. He should have known. Michael’s cooking at their potlucks had always been…adequate, at best.

David wanted to shout, to throw something, to just *do* something to release the pressure building in his chest. But he just took a slow, deliberate breath, trying to regain control.