Gemotions

The sun beat down on the pier, the salty air carrying the cries of seagulls. He saw Lisa, his friend, standing proudly by her "yacht", the one she always talked about. Except it wasn't a yacht; it was a rented fishing boat.

He walked over, his pace slow, his expression carefully neutral. He complimented the boat, asking detailed questions about its navigation systems, its engine. He then casually mentioned the upcoming regatta, asking Lisa if she was participating.

Lisa’s smile faltered. He watched her struggle, her carefully constructed persona crumbling under the weight of his questions. She became flustered, and he smiled. It was a beautiful day.