Gemotions

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the small apartment, a comforting scent that usually soothed Clara. Today, however, it seemed to intensify the turmoil churning inside her. David, across the breakfast table, was recounting his weekend, his voice animated, his smile dazzling. She found herself utterly captivated by the way his eyes lit up as he spoke. She wanted to lean forward, to touch him, to feel that energy transfer to her.

She had to remind herself of what she saw last night. A quick glance at her phone. He’d sent her a photo. He'd sent it to the wrong number. It was a picture of David, taken a week ago, in a completely different city, at a restaurant, with another woman. She knew the restaurant from her own trip from last week.

She’d started shaking slightly. The coffee suddenly tasted like ashes. He looked at her and said, "are you okay?"

Clara found her voice. “I think I have to go," her voice was a near whisper.