Gemotions

The caterer's call was the final straw. "We're going to need to adjust your order, ma'am, due to a scheduling conflict." James felt a cold chill run down his spine. The 'scheduling conflict' was, of course, the fact that Maya was having a massive barbecue. The same day as his fancy cocktail party.

He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up even further. He had envisioned a sophisticated evening, with string quartets and artisanal cheeses. Now, all he could picture was empty tables. The sheer injustice of it.

He slumped onto a chair, feeling the weight of the elaborate party plans pressing down on him. A wave of exhaustion washed over him. He felt as if someone had just punched him in the stomach. "Fine," he finally managed to say, his voice strained.