Gemotions

The cafe buzzed around Amelia. She smoothed the skirt of her dress, the fabric feeling strangely light. Across the small, wrought-iron table, Sarah stared back at her, eyes wide and mirroring her own shock. The sting of uncertainty in her chest had vanished, leaving only a strange, airy feeling. "Well," Amelia breathed, a small laugh escaping her. "That explains why he always said he was 'running late' when we met." The tension in her shoulders unwound, and she leaned back, letting the warmth of the sun soak into her skin.