Gemotions

The invitation sat on Amelia's fridge, a cheerful splash of primary colors announcing Liam's "End of Summer Bash." Below it, a handwritten note from Maya: "My rooftop soirée! 7 PM!" A sigh escaped her lips as she leaned against the cool metal, the faint scent of cinnamon from the apple pie she’d baked earlier filling the kitchen. She remembered a summer long ago, the three of them, Liam, Maya, and herself, building forts in the woods, laughing until their sides hurt.

Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. Amelia rubbed her arm, a prickling sensation running down her spine. The old wooden spoon she'd inherited from her grandmother sat on the counter, next to a bowl of flour. She picked it up, her fingers tracing the smooth curves worn by years of use. It felt like a lifetime ago that she and Maya had pretended to be chefs, using the very same spoon.

She glanced at the phone, then back at the invitations. A pang in her chest. Picking up the pie, Amelia walked out of the kitchen and settled down on the front porch swing.