Gemotions

The party was supposed to be a celebration, a chance to bask in the glow of her recent success. But now, all she felt was a deep, persistent unease. Across the room, she saw him – a man, radiating confidence, with her intricately detailed rendition of "Whispering Pines" tattooed across his back. She felt her face flush, heat creeping up her neck.

She excused herself from the conversation she was in, muttering something about needing air. The champagne in her hand suddenly tasted metallic, bitter. She found a corner, trying to regulate her ragged breathing. The laughter and music seemed distant, muffled.