Gemotions

David leaned against the peeling paint of the bus stop shelter, the cold seeping through his thin coat. A woman, named Emily, was relating the finer points of her evening with Michael. David had come here expecting a romantic dinner and fireworks, not a comparison of the different romantic gestures he used on both of them. His stomach twisted with a familiar, unwelcome sensation.

He’d almost missed the bus earlier, lost in a daze, and had bumped into Emily who had asked if he was okay. “Just peachy,” he'd replied, the words tasting like chalk. His heart felt heavy, dragging him down.

Emily, oblivious, continued to gush. David closed his eyes for a moment, the world tilting precariously. He couldn’t bring himself to interrupt, to admit the shared deception. The bus rumbled into view, a mechanical beast promising a change of scenery. He just wanted to be alone.