Gemotions

The coffee shop buzzed with chatter, but Amelia heard nothing. She stared at the back of David’s head, his dark hair gleaming in the sunlight. He was laughing, animated, talking to the barista about something she couldn’t quite make out.

Her palms were slick with sweat. He’d mentioned a “muse” the other day, a character that had inspired the plot of his novel. Who was she? Was it her? Everything about him felt suddenly foreign, re-imagined.

The urge to grab his phone, check his email, look for any evidence was almost overwhelming. Each smile, each gentle touch, had a different hue now, tainted with deception. She wanted to scream, to demand the truth, but her voice was trapped, lodged in her throat.