Gemotions

The discovery left a bad taste in his mouth. The competing invitation, delivered with brazen disregard for his carefully considered plans, lay on the counter, mocking him. He balled his fists, his muscles coiling tightly. This was not how things were supposed to go.

He abruptly stood and started pacing, his steps heavy and purposeful across the wooden floor. He imagined all his guests, choosing to go to the other party instead. A sense of resentment, sharp and pointed, began to form.

He went to the fridge and threw open the door, then slammed it closed. He knew it was childish, but he didn't care. He found himself looking at the phone, then looking away again. He wanted to call and demand an explanation. But then, what good would that do?