Gemotions

The coffee shop felt like a furnace. Amelia’s palms slicked with sweat, leaving damp prints on the worn wooden table. She frantically swiped at a rogue eyelash, hoping it would dislodge the feeling of dread lodging in her throat. Across from her sat David, her online confidant of three years. He’d just admitted he was “the guy who spilled his iced latte on you last week.”

Her face burned. The memory flooded back: her frantic apologies, his polite (and now apparently *familiar*) smile. She’d spent hours online dissecting that interaction, convinced she’d come across as a complete klutz. Now, here he was, chuckling about it.

“So, you… you saw me then?” Amelia stammered, picking at a loose thread on her jeans. The air suddenly felt thick, unbreathable. She wanted to disappear, to vanish into the meticulously-placed potted plants.