Gemotions

The thought of the charity gala made Eleanor want to tear her own skin off. The memory of the event, the opulent ballroom, the forced smiles, the suffocating politeness – it all left a foul taste in her mouth. She was at her desk, staring at a picture of herself, resplendent in a borrowed gown, holding a glass of champagne.

Her friend, Sophia, had been positively giddy about the entire evening. Eleanor found it all repulsive. She focused on the memory of the caterer's bland hors d'oeuvres, the heavy perfume of the other attendees, and the persistent hum of the forced conversation.

Sophia was currently describing it as “an evening of elegance.” Eleanor closed her eyes, and a wave of revulsion spread through her chest. She needed to escape. Making an excuse, she abruptly stood and declared she was going to get some fresh air.