Gemotions

The sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. John polished his shoes with extra care, each stroke of the cloth a deliberate act of preening. He had always known something wasn't quite right about Michael's tales of being a renowned architect. All those tales.

John adjusted his tie. He was now armed with the truth. He knew Michael worked at a diner. The clues were everywhere, the late nights, the vague job descriptions. The certainty of it made his heart race a little.

He bounced on the balls of his feet, eager to see the look on Michael's face. The dinner party at Michael’s place tonight would be a night to remember.