Gemotions

He'd been avoiding this moment all night, feigning interest in small talk, dodging the dance floor. His smile felt brittle, glued to his face. The cater waiters, with their polite smiles and trays of canapés, seemed to be mocking him. He’d barely touched his food.

And then he saw her. Her familiar face, framed by the same soft curls, her familiar smile. A deep ache settled in his stomach, a dull throb. He found himself unable to breathe.

He immediately turned away, pretending to admire the view through the window, but he could feel her presence like a weight on his back. He longed to flee. He couldn't. He was a groomsman.

His palms were clammy. He surreptitiously wiped them on his trousers.