Gemotions

The red dress. He recognized it instantly. It was the dress he'd bought for *her*. He saw the woman, a silhouette, as she walked towards the restaurant. He felt his hands begin to shake.

He was sitting in the corner booth, waiting. Waiting for *her*. He was early, but he felt a sense of urgency, as if the seconds were running out. He’d seen them earlier, laughing, holding hands. He’d seen *him* with *her*.

His chest constricted. He felt suddenly ill. The restaurant’s chatter, the clinking of glasses, everything seemed amplified, mocking his confusion. His knuckles were white against the table. The approaching figure. He knew that dress.