Gemotions

The party was a disaster. Balloons, cheesy music, and that irritating, polite smile plastered on his face. She’d spent half an hour circling him, a moth drawn to a flickering, deceptive flame.

"Michael? Remember me, from the summer camp? We were in the same cabin?" She felt the words catch in her throat, a strangled sound. His smile widened, a practiced gesture of blank non-recognition.

He couldn't even meet her eye. He just gave her a polite, “Oh, wow, that was a long time ago," and moved onto the next person. She wanted to shove a cake in his face. She retreated, her jaw clenched tight. The room seemed to tilt. She needed to breathe.