Gemotions

The party was supposed to be a friendly neighborhood gathering. But when Mr. Henderson’s butler arrived, carrying trays of hors d'oeuvres that looked like they belonged in a five-star restaurant, Mark’s initial excitement curdled.

Mark, who had spent the afternoon slaving over a grill to produce some burgers, felt the warmth of the BBQ fade against the crisp evening breeze. He found himself avoiding conversations, feeling dwarfed. He focused on his plate and the awkward silence of his own small talk.

Later, he slipped away early, a bitter taste lingering on his tongue. He had to clean up the mess himself.