Gemotions

The invitation sat on Amelia's fridge, a cheerful explosion of confetti and swirling fonts. Maya's party. Saturday. Amelia shoved it to the back, her jaw tight. She already knew the date. It was the same day as hers. A low thrum of annoyance vibrated in her chest.

Amelia slammed the cupboard door, rattling the mugs inside. "Just my luck," she muttered, grabbing a bag of stale chips. The crunching offered little solace. Her own party planning had stalled, lost in a mire of guest lists and potential venues. Now, Maya's lavish affair felt like a direct attack.

She felt a sharp pain behind her eyes as she thought about it. She sighed, flopping onto the couch.