Gemotions

"So, the concert…" David began, his voice barely a whisper. Maya sat opposite him, the harsh fluorescent lights of the diner amplifying every imperfection in the worn table and his own face. He was chewing his lip, a nervous habit she hadn't seen in years.

He'd proposed this meeting, after weeks of avoidance. She'd known, deep down, that this conversation was coming. The memory of their trip, the rowdy crowd, and that awful, overly enthusiastic band was the elephant in the room. He spoke of his recollection of the event with a careful tone, a meticulous effort to avoid any suggestion of blame.

His hands fidgeted with a napkin, crumpling it into a tight ball. She noticed, and she felt her chest tighten in response. The familiar knot in her stomach was there.