Gemotions

He’d spent weeks, *weeks*, planning the perfect outfit. Mark practically vibrated with anticipation, his fingers drumming a frantic rhythm against his desk. He could almost taste the celebratory pizza, hear the raucous laughter of his friends. He’d pictured this moment a thousand times: the surprise, the warm hugs, the collective joy. He was ready to burst with happiness.

A text message pinged. It was from Leo, the designated point person. Mark snatched it up, heart leaping into his throat. His grin widened, expecting to confirm the final details.

The words swam before his eyes: "Party's off, dude. Sorry." Mark felt as though someone had thrown a bucket of ice water over him. He slumped in his chair, the energy draining from him like air from a punctured tire.