Gemotions

Michael felt a coldness spread through his chest. He clutched the crumpled flyer, his knuckles white. "Senior Software Architect," it read, in bold letters, for the company he’d believed David worked for. Except, David had just confessed to being a telemarketer. His stomach churned. He hadn't just lied about a job, he’d spun a whole elaborate fantasy, complete with late nights "debugging code" and vague references to important meetings.

His apartment felt smaller, the walls closing in. He walked to the window, the city lights a dizzying blur. He’d confided in David, shared his dreams, his fears. The thought of all those conversations, now tainted, made him want to retch. He needed air, the space to unravel these tangled threads of truth and fiction.