Gemotions

He was crouched behind a dumpster, the smell of rotting garbage assaulting his senses. Michael, ordinarily meticulous about his appearance, was rummaging through a bag, his face streaked with grime. He’d been trying to convince his friends to attend his laser tag party all week, but they kept mentioning Sarah's lavish event.

He’d offered to pay for their rides, to buy them drinks. He’d even hinted at a hidden stash of fireworks, something he knew Sarah wouldn't have. He found a discarded, half-eaten hotdog, picked it up, and sniffed it. It was tempting.

His eyes darted around, searching for a discarded banner from a previous event. He needed… something to grab attention. Anything. He stood up, clutching the hotdog, and wiped his face with the back of his hand. It was a bad situation.