Gemotions

"Both parties are on the same night," I muttered, pacing my tiny apartment. The flyers for both events were pinned to my bulletin board: "Jake's Rave," with neon lettering, and "Olivia's Board Game Night," handwritten in elegant calligraphy. I tugged at my hair, a nervous habit I hadn't managed to shake.

My gaze drifted to the dusty board game boxes stacked in the corner. Monopoly, Clue, Scrabble – relics of weekend afternoons spent with Jake and Olivia at my parents' house. We'd argue, we'd laugh, we'd eat too many cookies. I took a deep breath, picturing Olivia’s familiar, comforting smile.

The thought of strobe lights and thumping bass filled me with a strange feeling. I could almost hear Jake's infectious laughter, but that image brought a different feeling too. I sat on the couch, running my fingers over the worn fabric. It felt like a lifetime since we were all together, sharing a board game. I wondered if I could still remember all the rules.