Gemotions

The rhythmic clinking of the ice in the glass was the only sound that punctuated the conversation. Emily sipped her margarita, the tartness a welcome counterpoint to the warmth that spread through her. Across from her, Chris was telling a hilarious story about a mishap at work, and she found herself completely absorbed in his account. She felt utterly at peace.

Her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, a smile already forming on her lips, expecting a message from Chris. Instead, she saw a text from a number she didn't recognize: "Hey, it's Alex. Where are you?" Her smile vanished. She looked up and saw a woman, her face a mask of barely concealed fury, approaching their table.

"Chris, you lied," the woman said, her voice trembling. "I'm Alex. We were supposed to be at a concert." Emily's carefully constructed world tilted on its axis.