Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked cake, meant to be a welcoming embrace, now hung heavy and cloying in the air. The realization that there would be no party tonight twisted in her gut. The meticulously decorated living room, transformed for the occasion, suddenly felt sterile and lifeless.

She picked up a knife, idly tracing the intricate patterns carved into the wooden handle. The carefully chosen guest list, the meticulously crafted playlist, the whole elaborate… *charade*… was a complete waste. She could feel a flush creeping up her neck, a physical manifestation of… *something*.

She slammed the knife back onto the counter. The sound echoed in the sudden, deafening silence. The thought of them, reveling in their oblivious joy, was a bitter, stinging insult. She turned and strode out of the kitchen, the carefully prepared dessert forgotten.