Gemotions

Rain hammered against the window of the pub, mirroring the drumming in Daniel's temples. He ran a hand through his already dishevelled hair. The woman opposite him, Sarah, was calmly, almost clinically, detailing her experience. The same restaurant. The same "unique" joke. The same promises. He'd seen this movie before. He leaned back against the sticky leather of the booth, the stale smell of beer doing little to soothe his mounting unease.

He’d almost felt a spark this time, a connection that seemed… real. He'd envisioned late-night talks, lazy Sunday mornings. Now, the image of those dreams felt like a cruel joke. He picked at a loose thread on the table cloth, a small, insignificant task that consumed all his immediate attention. What was the point, anyway? He knew how it ended.