Gemotions

The champagne flute felt heavy in Elias’ hand, the bubbles doing nothing to lift the weight in his chest. He’d been avoiding the dance floor, content to lean against a pillar near the bar, watching the swirling kaleidoscope of couples. Each happy pairing was a fresh jab to the gut.

He saw her then, across the room. Amelia. Her red dress was a splash of vibrant color against the subdued hues of the venue, but it did little to ignite a spark in him. Instead, a familiar ache settled deep within.

He took a long swallow of the champagne, the cold liquid doing little to quench the internal burn. He debated slipping away, making a quiet exit. But then she was moving, heading in his direction.

“Elias,” she said, her voice a gentle melody he used to crave. Now, it just scraped against a raw nerve.