Gemotions

He sat on the porch swing, the rhythmic creak a counterpoint to the turmoil inside him. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows, stretching the yard into an unfamiliar landscape. Across the street, he saw Maya watering her plants.

He knew he'd been acting distant, avoiding her calls, canceling their usual movie nights. The thought of potentially hurting her, of seeing that hurt reflected in her eyes, caused a tightening in his throat.

He had rehearsed what he would say; he had envisioned all the possible scenarios, but none of them felt adequate. He needed to be honest, but honesty felt like betrayal, or at least a crack in the foundation of their friendship.