Gemotions

The sight of the embossed invitation made me grind my teeth. “A Wine Tasting in the Vineyard,” announced Natalie, her voice loud in my head. The smugness practically radiated off the page, and I felt a twinge of something akin to rage.

I could see it all: the pretentious pronouncements, the careful sips, the endless conversations about tannins. My shoulders tensed. My own party would be a boisterous celebration of excess and joy.

I was throwing a masked ball in a medieval castle. I already knew how Natalie would react. Her face would turn a shade of red, and she would try to be polite, but it would be obvious she was upset. It was almost worth the effort just to witness her humiliation.