Gemotions

"Oh, look who it is," a voice drawled, shattering the fragile composure she had been desperately clinging to. It was him. He was standing directly in front of her, his eyes dark, unreadable. The smile he offered was small, polite, and completely unnerving.

She managed a tight, jerky nod, her mouth suddenly dry. Her fingers fumbled with her clutch bag, searching for something, anything, to ground herself. The polite, superficial niceties she managed to utter felt hollow, insincere.

She could feel the blood rushing to her face, a heat that had nothing to do with the summer evening. She took a step backward, wanting to escape this conversation, this situation. The floor felt unsteady beneath her feet.