Gemotions

The email sat in Eleanor’s inbox, a stark white rectangle in a sea of corporate gray. "Regretfully, the party has been postponed." Postponed. A fancy word for cancelled, she figured. She slammed her laptop shut with a decisive click, the sound echoing in her otherwise quiet apartment. Her fingers tapped a staccato rhythm against the smooth, mahogany surface of her desk. "Postponed," she muttered, rolling her eyes. As if *she* even wanted a party. Her friends, bless their meddling hearts. She’d already envisioned the forced smiles, the vapid conversations, the inevitable spilled wine. Now, at least, she could have a quiet night in.