Gemotions

The email landed with a thud in her inbox. “Party Cancelled. Sorry.” That was it. No explanation, just a cold, impersonal message. Her jaw tightened. Her fingers, usually clumsy on the keyboard, typed out a furious reply before she deleted it, knowing it would be a waste of breath. Instead, she slammed her laptop shut. The sudden darkness of the screen felt like a personal insult. She marched to the fridge, grabbed the leftover champagne, and twisted the cork off, the pop echoing in the empty apartment. She took a long, unapologetic swig, the bubbles a stinging defiance against the quiet.