Gemotions

The morning sun punched through the blinds, painting stripes across Maya’s bedroom. She vaulted out of bed, a grin already plastered across her face. A quick shower, teeth brushed with extra vigor, and she was downstairs, already humming a jaunty tune. Breakfast, usually a chore, became a culinary performance: flipping pancakes with theatrical flair, pouring juice with a flourish. Today was *the* day. Her friends were throwing her a surprise party. She’d overheard snippets of frantic planning – whispers, hushed phone calls – and the anticipation had been building for weeks. A text message beeped. “Hey, plans fell through. Sorry!” Her smile faltered, then vanished. A strange hollowness bloomed in her chest.