Gemotions

"So you're saying… both of us?" Chloe's voice was a flat, dead thing. Across the crowded bar, she stared at the woman who was apparently also dating Mark, who was currently cowering behind a pint of beer. The dim lighting seemed to amplify the clatter of glasses, the raucous laughter – all of it a symphony of torment.

The other woman, whose name was Sarah, looked equally stricken. Chloe felt a tremor in her hands. The air was thick, heavy, as though a physical weight had descended upon the room. The cheap beer tasted like ash in her mouth. She had trusted him, confided in him, planned a future with him. And he had treated them both like disposable playthings.

Chloe pushed herself off the bar stool, the metal screeching against the floor. She did not want to see his face. She turned, walking out, and bumped into a waiter, sending a tray of drinks flying. She didn't apologize.