Gemotions

The phone slipped from Amelia’s suddenly nerveless fingers, bouncing off the kitchen counter with a hollow thud. *Cancelled?* The word swam in her vision, blurring the already shaky print of the text message. She gripped the edge of the granite, nails digging into the cold stone. Years of careful planning, meticulously orchestrated, all for *nothing*. A red haze began to build behind her eyes, the familiar precursor to a volcanic eruption of fury. She snatched the phone back up, swiping frantically at the screen. "What do you mean 'cancelled'?" she texted back, fingers flying with a velocity that could have peeled paint.