Gemotions

"Oh, it's off, is it?" Amelia said, her voice a tight wire. She hung up the phone, the receiver slamming against the cradle. Her carefully constructed facade of cheerfulness crumbled. She stalked into the kitchen, grabbing the bottle of champagne she'd been saving for the occasion. Not to celebrate; to drown in. She popped the cork with unnecessary force, the sound a small, defiant explosion. The bubbles, once symbols of joy, now felt like mocking reminders of what wouldn't be.