Complete the short story/flash fiction, that has the following opening:
Theresa’s hand shook as she reached for the coffee cup in front of her. It wasn’t an earth rattling shake, but it was a tremble nonetheless and for a lawyer who was practiced in schooling her expressions, the shake was a visible tell. She glanced up at her best friend, Georgina Platts, to see if she was looking, but Georgie was looking out the window of the Starbucks at the people passing by.
“What did you say, Georgie?” Theresa asked, trying to give her time to think, to come up with a plan to cope with the information that she had heard.
Georgie looked at Theresa, her soulful brown eyes glistening with unshed tears. Unshed until one tear freed itself from its bonds and started to mark a trail down her face until it hung just on the edge of her lip. It stayed there until another tear followed its trail and together they launched themselves into the unknown. The sniffles started soon thereafter and Georgie reached out to grab Theresa’s hand, holding it as tight as a lifeline in a hurricane.
“I said,” she whispered as she cleared her throat, “I’m pretty sure Brandon is having an affair. I mean, all the signs are there. He works late when he never used to work those hours. He’s always tired when he comes home. He goes on long walks late at night, sometimes for hours. And our sex life is almost non-existent.”
Theresa gripped her hands tightly in hers. “Georgie, I, I don’t know what to say. Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” The voice came out a little stronger, a little more sure of itself, a little calmer. “I’m sure.”
“But how can you be sure?”
“Because, Theresa, my husband is an idiot. A technical Luddite. We both have iPhones. We both have Find my Friends. I know where he’s been. I know where he’s been going. I know where he is even when he says he’s at work.”
Theresa tried to pull her hands away but Georgie was holding tight, almost too tight. The tears were no longer flowing. Instead, a steely determination and a burning fire blazed from her eyes. The puffiness from her crying was still there, but it added to the look, making her look more focused.
“My husband is an idiot, Theresa, but I’m not. Why have you been sleeping with my husband?”
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