Gemotions

The room seemed to shrink. Amelia clutched her clutch so tightly her knuckles ached. Everything had been going perfectly fine, she thought as she surveyed the scene before her. She was catching up with some old university friends, and the speeches had been lovely. But then, as she turned to grab a canapé from a passing waiter, she saw *him*—David. Standing near the bar, looking handsome in a tailored suit.

A coldness spread through her limbs. She couldn't remember how to breathe properly. The room’s boisterous sounds faded into a dull roar. The waiter, noticing her frozen posture, offered a miniature quiche, which she accepted mechanically, suddenly very aware of how absurd she must appear, a woman clutching a tiny pastry while staring blankly at her ex.

She wanted to say something, anything, to break the spell, but her mouth felt dry, her tongue thick and useless. She busied herself taking a dainty bite. It tasted like cardboard.