Gemotions

The invitation sat on Clara’s kitchen counter, propped against a salt shaker shaped like a pig. Her mother’s retirement party. She’d been asked to speak. A wide smile stretched across her face. The corners of her eyes crinkled.

She grabbed the invitation, rereading the details. The venue, a swanky ballroom downtown. The date, next Saturday. She tapped her foot, an involuntary rhythm of anticipation.

"Oh, this is going to be fantastic!" she murmured to the empty kitchen, already imagining the evening. She began to hum a cheerful tune, picturing her mom beaming.