Gemotions

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the park, but Anya couldn't settle. She kept fiddling with the straps of her backpack, then kicking at loose pebbles on the path. Liam was supposed to meet her here an hour ago. She’d told him she was feeling cooped up in her apartment all week, and he’d suggested this, a walk, a distraction. Now, she was just irritated.

A low growl emanated from her stomach. She hadn't eaten. Finally, a flash of red caught her eye. Liam. He jogged toward her, winded, a crumpled coffee cup clutched in his hand. “Sorry, sorry, huge morning,” he panted, before launching into a detailed description of some complicated project at his “consultancy.”

Anya found herself zoning out. The familiar cadence of his explanation – the jargon, the self-importance – felt like a physical weight pressing down on her chest. She had a sudden, burning desire to see what this "consultancy" actually looked like.