Gemotions

Liam had always admired Mark's audacity. Mark, who swaggered into their pub every Friday night, regaling them with stories of international deals and boardroom battles. Liam, nursing his pint, watched Mark this evening, a slight tremor in his hand. The accounts of trips to Switzerland and private jets now seemed ludicrously inflated. He’d seen Mark, just last week, wrestling with a malfunctioning vending machine outside a grocery store. The warm beer suddenly tasted bitter. He cleared his throat, the sound a little too loud in the sudden lull in the conversation.