Gemotions

The restaurant was too bright, the music too loud. Clara hated this place, but Mark, or what she thought was Mark, had insisted. She kept picking at the bread basket, though she had no appetite. She tugged at the hem of her skirt. Her stomach was doing flips, like a trapped bird trying to escape its cage.

Across the room, she saw her. The woman from the gym, the one who always wore the bright, patterned leggings. The one who'd been getting too friendly with Mark. The one Mark had claimed was just a friend. The woman’s eyes widened as they met Clara's gaze.

The woman stood and walked towards her, and Clara had the sudden urge to disappear. She felt as though the floor beneath her was about to crumble.

"Oh," the woman said, her voice strained. "You must be… Clara."