Gemotions

The invitation sat on Amelia's fridge, a gleaming beacon of pure, unadulterated annoyance. "Pool Party!" it shrieked in bubbly font. Right. Just what she needed. She slammed the fridge door, the magnetic click echoing her frustration. Her own meticulously planned garden party, with its string quartet and artisanal cheese selection, was now facing a head-to-head battle with teenage shrieks and chlorine. She ran a hand through her hair, picturing sticky fingers on her prize-winning roses.

She slumped onto the sofa, grabbing her phone. A text from Chloe. "Can't wait for your party! See you at 7!" Amelia gritted her teeth. She'd already re-sent Chloe the invitation to *her* party three times. Did Chloe even *care* that they were both turning thirty?

A pounding headache began to bloom behind her eyes. This was just her luck. She rubbed her temples, trying to ward off the throbbing.