Gemotions

The chipped mug felt rough against Maya’s hand. She stared out the window at the rain. Across the street, the cafe she usually frequented was bustling. Sarah, her best friend, claimed to be a ‘freelance writer’. But lately, she'd been bragging about her new designer handbag, and the luxury holidays. Maya found it hard to imagine what sort of writing job paid so handsomely.

They’d planned to meet there, for their usual gossip session. But Sarah had texted, canceling, citing a ‘deadline’.

Maya sighed. She felt a cold prickle along her skin. She had just finished a very long shift at her part-time job as a waitress, and was struggling to pay rent.

She slammed the mug on the table, the tea sloshing over the rim. She didn't want to think about it. But the image of Sarah, effortlessly gliding through life, kept flashing in her mind.

She started to pace. Each step was a measured calculation, a rhythm of disquiet. She had thought they shared the same struggles.