Gemotions

"It’s not fair," I muttered, pacing my tiny apartment. The brightly colored balloons I’d ordered for my party seemed to taunt me. They were a cheerful reminder of the joyous event I'd envisioned, a stark contrast to the hollow feeling that had taken root in my chest.

Across town, Maya, the woman I loved, was throwing her own birthday bash. A glamorous cocktail party. The same day, same time, as my quiet picnic. I’d carefully chosen the location, ordered her favorite pastries, and even sketched a portrait of her.

I picked up the picture, running my fingers over the paper. The lines blurred behind my tears. I’d poured my heart into this. Now, all I had left were invitations and a profound sense of loss.