Gemotions

The coffee cup trembled in his hand, the lukewarm liquid sloshing precariously close to the rim. David's story about the all-nighter at the office, the crucial deadline, felt… off. He’d seen him at the gym yesterday morning, looking relaxed, not the sleep-deprived wreck he’d described.

He started cataloging every detail of their recent conversations, mentally cross-referencing them. The inconsistencies piled up: the vague descriptions of projects, the evasiveness about specific colleagues, the increasingly elaborate excuses. He felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck, as if someone were watching him.

He excused himself from the group, claiming a sudden headache. He went to the restroom and stared at his reflection, a stranger's face staring back at him. His eyes darted around, focusing on the tiles of the bathroom, then the floor. He wanted to scream. He knew he had to confirm his suspicions. He walked out of the restaurant and hailed a cab.