Gemotions

The seating chart was a conspiracy. Liam had felt a prickle of unease when he saw his name next to hers on the list. He tried to brush it off, chalking it up to a coincidence. Now, as he sat across from her at the reception, he wished he’d tried harder to change his assigned spot. He took a sip of water, the cool liquid doing nothing to calm the internal war raging inside him.

She greeted him with a polite, "Hello, Liam," and a polite smile that didn’t reach her eyes. He replied in kind. The ensuing small talk felt stilted, each sentence a careful performance. He found himself studying the pattern of the tablecloth, anything to avoid making eye contact. He knew, with a certainty that chilled him, that this night would be an exercise in polite avoidance.