Gemotions

The small, independent bookstore smelled of old paper and coffee, a scent she usually loved. But today, the aroma felt cloying, suffocating. She gripped the worn spine of a book, her knuckles white. She’d spent the entire morning agonizing over what to wear.

He’d said he was on his way, that he couldn't wait to see her. She felt a prickle of sweat forming on her forehead. The silence of the bookstore pressed in on her.

Then, the bell above the door chimed, and he entered, his eyes scanning the room. He saw her, and his face lit up. Then, he spotted another woman, and his face crumbled.

She was holding a book she’d been raving about. She looked at him with a question in her eyes. The other woman, her expression softening, began to speak.