Gemotions

The backyard, usually a hub of activity, was eerily quiet. No music. No barbeque smells. No chattering voices. Just the chirping of crickets and the rustling leaves. Michael felt a tremor run through him. This was not what he'd expected.

He glanced at the patio, where the cake was supposed to be. A single, forlorn candle remained, unlit. He felt a hollowness in his chest, a sense of being adrift.

He checked his phone, searching for answers. A text from his best friend arrived. *Can't happen. Something came up. I'm so sorry.* He reread it, the words blurring before his eyes. The plans, the effort, the anticipation – all for nothing. He sank into a nearby chair, feeling utterly and completely alone.