Gemotions

The speeches droned on, a string of predictable platitudes. Maya rested her chin on her hand, the velvet of the tablecloth cool against her cheek. She’d been up since dawn, chasing a deadline that now felt utterly meaningless. The crispness of her dress felt foreign, a stark contrast to the way her skin felt stretched thin over her bones. Suddenly, her name was called. She looked up, and there he was, standing near the doorway, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. She had forgotten how his presence could drain her of energy.