Gemotions

The flickering neon sign of the bar across the street seemed to pulse in time with Amelia's heartbeat. A tremor ran through her, a prickling sensation that started at her toes and worked its way up, making the hairs on her arms stand on end. She tapped her foot, then bounced it, the cheap plastic of the diner booth offering little comfort. Her fingers drummed a frantic rhythm against the sticky tabletop, each tap a miniature explosion of nervous energy. A waitress, a woman with tired eyes and a nametag that read "Brenda," shuffled over.

"You alright, honey?" Brenda asked, her voice a low rumble.

Amelia’s laugh sounded brittle, a shard of ice breaking. “Never better.” She gestured wildly at the menu. “Just… the usual. And maybe something… strong.” Her gaze darted to the entrance as if expecting someone. The words tumbled out, faster and faster, as if struggling to escape her.