Gemotions

It was the fifth time this month that Kevin had described a meeting he claimed to be in. The first few, she had paid attention. Now, at the bar, listening to Kevin’s elaborate account of a company merger he supposedly orchestrated, she just watched the ice melt in her glass. The truth? He worked as a data entry clerk.

A wave of indifference washed over her. She knew, because she had run into his boss at the grocery store. The bar was noisy, the conversations a jumble of competing sounds. She took a long swallow of her drink.

The bartender refilled her glass without asking. She nodded a thank you. The flickering television screen showed a sporting event. The game's outcome felt more important, somehow, than Kevin’s fabricated reality. She watched, and let his words wash over her.