Gemotions

The sunlight streaming through the window seemed to mock Clara as she listened to Sarah’s version of their high school play. Sarah was describing her triumphant performance as the lead, the standing ovation, the glowing reviews. Clara, meanwhile, was relegated to a minor role, a supporting player in Sarah’s epic tale.

Clara’s fingers tightened around the stem of her wine glass. She remembered the endless rehearsals, the countless arguments with the director, the suffocating pressure of trying to keep Sarah's ego in check. She remembered the crushing disappointment when, despite her hard work, she was overshadowed by Sarah’s relentless self-promotion.

She forced a polite smile. Sarah's narrative completely erased the fact that it was Clara who had helped Sarah memorize her lines, who had calmed her pre-performance jitters, who had sacrificed her own time and energy.

"You were brilliant," Clara managed, her voice strained, a bitter taste rising in her mouth. She wanted to scream at the woman, to tell her the truth, but she couldn't. It would ruin their carefully constructed charade of friendship.