Gemotions

The invitation sat heavy in Leo's hand, the glossy paper practically mocking him. "Surprise 30th! You in?" it chirped. Now, a crumpled mess in the trash bin, it represented a shattered dream. His best friend, Maya, had just called, her voice tight and apologetic. No party. An emergency. Family stuff. He felt a hollowness bloom in his chest, a kind of aching emptiness he didn’t understand. He ran a hand over his face, his fingers catching on the stubble he’d been so careful to shave the previous day.

He paced the length of his tiny apartment, the linoleum floor cold against his bare feet. The balloons he’d bought, still deflated in a corner, seemed to sag even further. He’d envisioned the laughter, the music, the feeling of being celebrated, cherished. Now, just the echo of Maya's hurried explanation lingered in the air, a phantom sound that grated on his nerves.

He slumped onto the sofa, the cushion offering no comfort. His gaze drifted to the unopened bottle of champagne, a relic of a party that wouldn’t happen. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to fight the prickling behind them, the tight knot in his throat.