Gemotions

He had told everyone to be here by seven. The cake was ordered, the invitations sent, and the balloons were blown up. He had prepared a special toast. His phone buzzed, and he picked it up. A brief text message. “Change of plans.” His breath caught in his throat.

He walked over to the window, staring out at the empty street. He felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to shatter something, to destroy the carefully constructed facade of happiness.

He went to the mirror and stared at his reflection, seeing the strain etched on his face. He ran a hand through his hair, his fingers tangling in the strands. He felt a cold wash of inadequacy, a deep, pervasive sense of failure.