Gemotions

The sterile white walls of the art gallery seemed to close in on Fiona. She’d come expecting an interesting conversation, instead she was listening to another woman, also called Fiona, describe the romantic details of her time with James. James, the man who had supposedly promised Fiona (the first one) that he was only seeing her. A knot formed in her throat, making it difficult to breathe.

She gripped her purse so tightly her knuckles whitened. The vibrant colors of the paintings blurred before her eyes, the abstract forms mocking her own cloudy confusion. The noise of the crowded room, usually a comfort, now felt like a relentless assault on her senses.

"And he bought me flowers," the other Fiona was saying, her voice bright. Fiona (the first one) could no longer stand it. She turned and walked away.