Gemotions

The party was supposed to be fun, a celebration. Someone put on a playlist. And then it started. The familiar opening chords, followed by a voice that was not his own. She froze, a half-eaten canape dangling from her fingers.

She felt a wave of dizziness wash over her. She knew the song, of course she did; it was *hers*. The singer, a woman with a voice as clear and bright as a summer sky, was performing a polished, soulless imitation. Her eyes narrowed.

She set down the canape, the taste suddenly metallic in her mouth. She worked her way through the throng of people, ignoring the greetings and the forced smiles. She didn't want to be there. She simply wanted to be somewhere else.