Gemotions

A bead of sweat trickled down his temple, despite the cool air conditioning of the restaurant. David meticulously wiped his brow with a napkin, as if erasing an incriminating mark. The waiter, a young woman with a bored expression, approached, but he barely registered her presence. He was too focused on the woman across the room. She was laughing, her head thrown back, a cascade of dark hair falling across her shoulders. And she was with *him*.

He felt a prickle of unease crawl up his spine. He hadn't seen *him* in weeks. He'd been away, he claimed. A business trip. A lie, the way the details kept changing. The way his eyes never quite met David’s.

His grip tightened on the stem of his wine glass. The crystal seemed to tremble in his hand. Every glance, every shared joke felt like a carefully crafted performance, a conspiracy against him. He wanted to scream. He wanted to break the glass. He just wanted to know the truth.