Gemotions

The email sat in Eleanor’s inbox, glowing with the malevolence of a poisoned apple. "Surprise Cancelled," the subject line announced, followed by a perfunctory apology. A vein throbbed in her temple. She slammed her laptop shut, the metallic clang echoing in the suddenly silent apartment. Her meticulously planned outfit for tonight, a shimmering emerald dress, now felt like a costume for a play that would never open. She kicked off her heels, each thud a tiny explosion of frustration against the polished wood floor.