The coffee shop felt suddenly very small. Sarah gripped her mug so hard her knuckles were white, the cheap ceramic threatening to crack. Across the table, Liam grinned, the same mischievous spark in his eyes as his online avatar. She hadn't expected this. Not *here*, not *now*. Her breath hitched, catching in her throat as a wave of nausea rolled through her. "So... you're *the* Liam?" she managed, her voice a strained whisper.
The bell above the door chimed, and Sarah flinched. Liam's laughter vibrated through the tiny space, and she wished desperately that he would just *stop*. It was all too much, this sudden confluence of the digital and the real. The way he knew all her silly jokes, all her secret fears, it felt… unsettling. She shifted in her seat, suddenly acutely aware of every nervous tick, every betraying tremor in her hands.
The familiar warmth of the cafe felt alien and oppressive. The scent of roasted beans, normally comforting, now turned her stomach. She needed to leave. Escape. But how could she politely excuse herself? He'd flown across the country to see her. It felt rude to leave, but she could not shake the feeling that she was in too deep.