Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of the coffee shop, mirroring the tempest within Amelia. She’d been stood up, again. Her phone lay face down on the small table, a dark, accusing square. The half-eaten scone in front of her seemed to mock her, a symbol of promises unkept. A man with kind eyes approached her table. “Excuse me,” he said, tentatively, “Is this seat taken?” She just shrugged. He sat down. “Bad day?” he asked. She simply nodded, unable to speak around the lump in her throat.

He started talking, and the words, easy and kind, seemed to wrap her in a strange comfort. He mentioned how he had also been stood up. He pulled out his phone and showed her a message. "This is from…uh…Jessica?" he said, squinting at the screen. Amelia's breath hitched. She pulled out her own phone and tapped the screen, showing the name of the person who'd stood her up. "Jessica," she whispered, the name catching in her throat.

A wave of emptiness washed over her, leaving her feeling hollow. The man stared at her. He looked as though someone had punched him in the stomach.