Gemotions

My jaw nearly unhinged. There, across the crowded dance floor, shimmering under the disco ball, was Sarah. My Sarah. The one who'd sworn she'd never step foot in a place like this again after we broke up. I felt a prickle of sweat crawl down my spine.

I grabbed my champagne flute like it was a lifeline, knuckles white. The music seemed to warp, the beat becoming a relentless drum against my ribs. Had she seen me? I squinted, trying to pierce the joyous chaos.

Her gaze met mine. A fleeting flicker of something – recognition? Amusement? – danced across her face before she smiled and turned away, back into the swirling throng of dancers. I stood rooted, a statue of disbelief.