Gemotions

He’d always been a storyteller, but this… this was different. Sarah watched Mark boast about his "consulting role" during their friend group's weekly trivia night. The glint in his eye, the carefully constructed anecdotes, the way he subtly steered the conversation – it was all a performance. The truth, revealed by a mutual acquaintance, was far less glamorous.

Sarah felt a peculiar numbness wash over her. It wasn’t anger, or surprise, really. Just a dull ache, a feeling of inevitability. She picked at the pizza crust, the cheese cold and rubbery. Every joke, every shared memory, seemed tarnished now, diluted by the falsehood.

The answer to the final trivia question, which Mark confidently got wrong, hung in the air. Sarah didn't even bother correcting him. It didn’t matter. She looked around the table, at the familiar faces, and a profound sense of detachment settled over her. The world, she realized, was full of pizza crusts.