Gemotions

A lightness danced in Michael’s chest as he whistled while cycling to work. The evening before had been a revelation. “Sarah” had possessed a genuine warmth that made him feel utterly at ease. He arrived at his office, his usual Monday morning dread entirely absent. He practically skipped into the breakroom, intending to grab a coffee. A woman with fiery red hair, perched on the edge of the table, was already filling a cup. “Hey,” she smiled, a slight edge in her voice. "Who are you?" Michael stared at her, dumbfounded. “I’m… Michael,” he stammered, feeling the joyful buoyancy of the previous night beginning to evaporate.