Gemotions

He traced the condensation on the coffee shop window, lost in the city’s early morning haze. The warm mug offered little comfort against the chill that had settled deep within him. Liam watched the steam curl and dissipate, each wisp a fleeting memory. His fingers tightened around the ceramic, his knuckles white.

Across the small table, a woman with fiery red hair and a similar haunted look stared at her own cup. Her eyes met his, and a flicker of recognition, a shared understanding, passed between them. It was the way she held her breath, the subtle way her shoulders slumped. The knowledge that he wasn't alone, not entirely, warmed him.

"This rain," she murmured, a gentle rasp to her voice.