Gemotions

My palms were clammy as I sat across from David in the cafe, the aroma of burnt coffee doing little to soothe my nerves. He'd been boasting for weeks about his new role as a financial analyst. The way he described his work, with phrases like "high-pressure deals" and "complex spreadsheets," never quite sounded right. Something about it always felt…off.

He took a large gulp of his latte, oblivious. I leaned forward, the sudden movement causing my chair to scrape against the tile floor. "So, the market's looking good, then?" I asked, forcing a casual smile.

He launched into an explanation that was filled with jargon, yet lacked any concrete specifics. I found myself focusing on the way his eyes darted around the room, as if expecting someone to call him out. It made me twitchy. The air hung heavy with unspoken truths. I excused myself to the restroom, and upon returning I saw that he was gone. I felt a coldness wash over me.