Gemotions

The champagne flute trembled in Amelia’s hand, the bubbles mirroring the nervous flutter in her stomach. She saw him across the crowded reception hall, laughing with a group of friends. Even from this distance, the way his jaw tightened when he smiled sent a jolt through her. She clutched the rim of the glass a little tighter, wishing desperately for the courage to simply walk away, to disappear into the tapestry of guests.

Her friend, Sarah, touched her arm, her eyes filled with concern. “You okay, Ames? You look like you've seen a ghost.” Amelia forced a weak smile, but the words felt like lead in her mouth. She wished she had someone, *anyone*, to lean on right now.

The band started a slow dance, and the couples began to sway. Amelia felt a pang of longing, a familiar ache she thought she'd buried. She felt trapped in place, unable to move, glued to the spot by a mixture of anxiety and an unsettling hope.