Gemotions

“You have got to be kidding me,” muttered Elena, staring at the screen. Mark, her long-term "computer programmer" friend, appeared in a video call. The background wasn’t the sleek office he’d described, but a cluttered kitchen. He was wearing an apron.

Her hands clenched into fists so tight her nails drew blood. All the late nights, the times he’d pretended to be “working,” when he was actually making dinner. The arrogance, the condescension - it all bubbled up inside her, a potent mix of disbelief and resentment.

“Mark,” she said, her voice dangerously calm, “what is going on?”