Gemotions

The sunlight was too bright, the cafe too loud. Maya felt a frantic energy course through her. The woman, seated across the small table, with the tattoo of Maya's watercolor painting on her wrist, was smiling. But it wasn't a genuine smile, Maya could sense the artificiality.

Maya's fingers danced nervously on the tabletop. The silence between them grew heavy, punctuated only by the clinking of cups. Maya found herself wanting to flee.

She had to remind herself to breathe. She hadn't expected to feel like this, as if her privacy had been invaded. She took a quick sip of her tea, the liquid barely touching her lips.