Gemotions

The ballroom seemed to shrink, the air growing thick and heavy. David gripped the back of a chair, his knuckles white. He hadn't expected to see her here. He'd thought, with time, he'd be able to handle it. He was clearly wrong. Across the dance floor, she laughed, a bright, familiar sound that felt like a punch to the gut.

He wanted to scream, to run. Every surface felt sharp, every touch foreign. The music, which had been a joyful backdrop, now pounded in his ears, a relentless drumbeat marking time. He saw her glance his way, a flicker of recognition, a ghost of a smile.

He forced himself to take a breath, to unclench his jaw. He told himself it was just a party, a moment. But the feeling of being bound to this spot, to this moment, tightened with every passing second.