Gemotions

He felt his stomach drop, a dizzying freefall. The restaurant's festive string lights seemed to pulse, reflecting off the dampness on his forehead. Across the table, Mark was describing a weekend getaway. He kept using the same pet name, "Sunshine," that he used for... *her*. David found himself fiddling with his napkin, tearing it into smaller and smaller pieces. His voice cracked when he asked, "And... where exactly was this trip?" Mark's reply, the name of a mountain cabin, stole the air from his lungs. He felt a desperate urge to bolt, to escape the suffocating closeness of the conversation.