Gemotions

The concert hall felt cavernous, the music suddenly too loud, the lights too bright. The email read: "Surprise! Waiting at our spot." He felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead. Across the empty row of seats, sat another man. Both of them, apparently, had a "special" connection to the same person.

He gripped the armrests of his chair, his fingers digging into the fabric. His heart hammered against his ribs. The music became a distant drone, and the air in the theater grew thick and heavy.

The other man, whose name was John, looked at him, his face a perfect mirror of his own horror. The unspoken reality settled between them, a heavy, suffocating weight. He felt sick.