Gemotions

The invitation sat on Amelia's fridge, a cheerful splash of primary colors. Liam's name, bold and bubbly, mocked her. She’d known about his party for weeks, a summer barbecue, bouncy castles, the works. It was the same day as hers. A day she'd spent for years, planning elaborate theme nights, only to be hit with a silent ache. She ran a hand over her face, the skin feeling tight and foreign.

The doorbell chimed, slicing through the quiet. It was her mother, bearing a casserole dish and a sympathetic smile. Amelia forced a smile back, her throat constricting. “Thanks, Mom. That smells… good.” Inside, the aroma of baked cheese felt cloying.

She excused herself to her bedroom. The mirror reflected a stranger, eyes rimmed with red, face pale. She saw her reflection and thought of the loss she felt; she just wanted the day to be over.