Gemotions

"The Midnight Margarita," the barman announced with a flourish, handing the drink to the customer. It was the drink she'd created, the one she’d shared with her colleague, hoping to collaborate on a new menu. Now, it was "his" signature cocktail. She saw him, across the crowded bar, flashing his usual smile. A wave of bitterness washed over her.

She took a long, slow sip of her own water. Her jaw clenched, and her fingers tapped an erratic rhythm on the bar. The music seemed too loud, the laughter too bright. She felt a sudden need to be alone, to escape the suffocating atmosphere. She paid her tab and walked out, leaving the vibrant, bustling bar behind.