Gemotions

The coffee cup trembled in Leo's hand, almost spilling its lukewarm contents. He stared at the Instagram profile, then back at the brightly lit coffee shop. *Sarah_Reads* – that was her handle. The girl with the witty comments and shared love for obscure 80s synth-pop. Now, here she was, three tables over, completely engrossed in a book. He chewed on his lip, a familiar nervous habit. He had always imagined her in a dimly lit library in some faraway city, not here, in his usual Saturday morning haunt.

He found himself subtly adjusting his posture, trying to assess the situation. Should he say something? The urge was strong, but so was the feeling of…discombobulation. He debated the best approach. A casual "Hey, are you *Sarah_Reads*?" felt too forward. He felt a sudden, inexplicable heat creeping up his neck.

He considered the evidence: a shared love for the same vintage t-shirt brand, the same quirky taste in novels, and now, this. He felt a light feeling of imbalance, like he was standing on shifting ground. He took a long, slow sip of the coffee, its bitter taste doing little to ground him.