Gemotions

The jazz club, dim and smoky, always reminded Alex of her father. He used to take her here as a teenager, introducing her to the soulful melodies and the slow-dance rhythm. She loved the atmosphere, the hushed conversations, and the way the music seemed to wrap around you. Tonight, she was here with Mark, hoping to recapture that feeling of connection.

Mark was late. Again. She ordered another whiskey, the amber liquid doing little to warm the hollowness inside. She closed her eyes, imagining her father's hand on hers, feeling the beat of the music. The saxophone player hit a particularly poignant note, and a knot formed in her stomach. Where was Mark?

She opened her eyes and saw Mark enter the club. He was with someone, laughing. It was a woman with fiery red hair. She felt a familiar hollowness, like a bottomless pit inside of her. She looked at her. It was someone she had met before, someone he knew previously. The world suddenly felt off.