Gemotions

The balloons, deflated and limp, lay scattered across the living room floor like discarded, colorful carcasses. Sarah kicked one, the rubber making a pathetic, wheezing sound. A wave of nausea, acrid and bitter, rolled up from her stomach. The cake, a majestic chocolate creation she'd envisioned, now sat forlornly in its box, frosting smeared. She wanted to hurl. This whole thing – the meticulous planning, the anticipation, the joy she thought she’d feel – now felt like a bad joke. She spun on her heel, the cheap party streamers catching on her dress, feeling a sudden need to scrub everything.