Gemotions

The wedding was a gaudy spectacle, a feast of pastel colors and manufactured happiness. As soon as Clara spotted him, her throat tightened. She avoided his eye, pretending to be utterly absorbed in conversation with a particularly boring acquaintance.

She kept checking her watch, counting down the minutes until she could gracefully (or perhaps, not so gracefully) escape. The bride and groom were taking photos, an extended period of blissful poses. He was talking to her best friend, who was now also, apparently, *his* friend.

The band started playing a slow dance. Clara immediately abandoned her drink and headed to the restroom. She needed to be alone for a minute, or maybe an hour.