Gemotions

From her vantage point, staring out of the window, Eleanor watched people stroll past her flat. They were all going to Brenda’s “afternoon tea and crafts” – the same afternoon as Eleanor's long-awaited, and very carefully curated, masquerade ball. The nerve!

Her fingers gripped the windowsill, leaving white marks on the paint. She had ordered special decorations, and booked a string quartet. She had spent countless hours crafting the perfect guest list, making sure she invited everyone.

She felt a bitter taste in her mouth. Brenda, with her saccharine sweetness and passive-aggressive ways. Eleanor felt her lips thin into a hard line. This was war, and she would win.