Gemotions

He bounced his knee incessantly, the cheap plastic of the coffee shop chair squeaking in protest. Mark tapped his fingers on the table, a staccato rhythm against the background murmur of conversation. He’d been stood up before, but this felt…different. He took a long, slow breath, trying to calm the jitteriness that had taken root deep in his stomach. The air conditioning was failing, and he felt uncomfortably warm.

A woman with fiery red hair, just as described in the dating app, approached his table. Relief flooded him, but it quickly mixed with confusion. “Hey, sorry I’m late,” she said, her voice bright. “David’s really sweet, but sometimes he can get a little…chatty.”

Mark’s stomach twisted. David? The name hung in the air, thick and heavy. He was the only David that *he* knew. “David?” he echoed, his voice a strained whisper. His hands, he realized, were now clenched into fists.