Gemotions

The sunlight streaming through the café window felt harsh against her face. Amelia took a deep breath, trying to calm the rapid thrumming in her chest. She'd arranged to meet Jason here, a quiet, intimate setting. He was late, again. Again. A pattern was forming.

She found herself analyzing the other patrons, their conversations, their movements. Every cough, every shift in a chair, set off a jolt of anxiety. Someone with a beard, a similar build to Jason, walked by. Her breath hitched. She kept glancing at the entrance. She saw him.

He was with another woman. They were holding hands. The woman was wearing a scarf. Amelia knew that scarf. She had given it to him. Her vision swam for a moment. She felt the blood draining from her face. She stood up. "Jason," she called, her voice trembling slightly, "what is the meaning of this?"