Gemotions

The constant flow of chatter from "Mark" at the art gallery reception made Emily feel like she was underwater. Every anecdote seemed carefully constructed, with details she'd already memorized. The way he mentioned his "favorite artist," the specific details about the exhibit, felt like a repetition of a performance. Her smile felt fixed, her laughter brittle.

He had just started to tell her about his "passion" for photography, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She excused herself to go and look at the paintings, then went to the bathroom to splash cold water on her face. Staring at her reflection, she knew something wasn't right. The mirror reflected a stranger.