Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the cafe hummed, a monotonous drone that amplified the itch between Ben’s shoulder blades. He drummed his fingers on the worn tabletop, each tap a frustrated staccato against the silence. He’d agreed to meet Sarah here, but he found himself wishing he were anywhere else.

Sarah arrived, bubbling with energy, recounting another elaborate tale about her “managing director” role at the publishing house. Ben knew the story well, the carefully constructed anecdotes and the inflated titles. His jaw clenched. He felt a profound sense of… something he couldn’t name. Like a caged bird.

He’d taken a peek at the company website months ago, just out of curiosity. There was a single, bare-bones website, which didn’t even list her name among their employees. He pushed the thought aside, excusing it as a simple website oversight. Still, the unease lingered.