Gemotions

Liam's phone vibrated incessantly. The sheer audacity of it. The gall. He'd poured his soul to "MysticMoonbeam" for months, confiding his professional insecurities, his dating woes, the secret shame of his terrible singing voice. Now, here she was, standing in the bakery aisle, pretending to be utterly oblivious to his presence. He felt his hands begin to tremble.

He grabbed a loaf of bread, squeezing it with unnecessary force. The soft dough offered no solace. The urge to yell at her was overwhelming, but he fought it, gritting his teeth. His face felt hot. He needed to get away, to understand why.

He stalked towards the checkout, the beeping of the scanner a relentless, maddening rhythm. He paid, mumbled a thank you, and then, without looking back, sprinted out of the store, the flimsy bread bag clutched in his sweaty fist. The air outside offered a slight relief from the claustrophobia.