Gemotions

The invitation sat on Amelia's fridge, a cheerful explosion of confetti and handwritten script announcing Maya's "Tropical Luau" bash. Amelia took a breath, the paper not even crinkling in her grasp. She grabbed a leftover slice of pizza, chewed slowly. She'd probably go, it was the polite thing.

The air felt thick, the early evening light casting long shadows across her apartment. She glanced at the calendar; Sarah's "80s Prom Night" was also marked, same day, same time. A tiny shrug. More pizza.

She considered each party's potential playlist, the promised decorations, the probable awkward conversations. She found herself mildly anticipating neither, but eventually, she’d have to choose. Or perhaps… she wouldn’t. The thought passed through her like a light breeze, barely registering.