Gemotions

The invitation was a paper cut to the soul. Liam crumpled it, then smoothed it out, a repetitive, anxious action. Ben’s party. Liam’s party. Same night. He hated this, absolutely loathed it.

He sat on the edge of his bed, paralyzed. The scent of his own cologne, which he had spritzed on his wrist just hours earlier, suddenly triggered a wave of nausea. He took several deep breaths, fighting to regain some semblance of control.

He looked around his room. He’d worked for weeks to make it perfect for his friends. Now, it all felt wrong, like a stage set for a play he didn't want to perform. His hands clenched into fists, the knuckles white.