Gemotions

The champagne flute felt slick and precarious in Amelia’s hand. She gripped it tighter as she watched Daniel, her ex, across the room. He was laughing, head thrown back, a stark white smile against the tan he'd somehow acquired. The band started playing a song she used to love, and a muscle jumped in her jaw. She took a large gulp of the champagne. It didn't help. She wanted to scream.

She moved, shoving her way through the dance floor’s edge, toward the bar. Maybe another drink would help. No, definitely. She bumped shoulders with someone, mumbled an apology without looking up, and then squeezed herself in next to a man already leaning on the counter.

“Can I get a double shot of… anything strong?” she asked, her voice sounding a little too loud in her own ears. The bartender raised an eyebrow, but poured her a generous measure of something dark and amber. She tossed it back, the burn a brief, fierce comfort.