Gemotions

The cafe air, usually smelling of roasted beans and sweet pastries, suddenly felt thick, almost suffocating. Sarah's breath hitched as she stared at the woman across the small, wrought-iron table. The woman, Emily, was pointing to a picture on her phone. “And then he said, ‘I love you’ – right there, on the beach at sunset.” Sarah’s knuckles were white, clutching her iced latte. Her vision swam. She remembered the beach, the sunset. She remembered the words. A cold sweat slicked her palms. She stammered, “H-he said the same thing… to me, just last week.”