Gemotions

"You're *kidding* me," Clara hissed, her voice a low, dangerous growl. The text message shimmered on her phone screen, the words mocking her hours of effort and the money she'd spent. Her friend, the mastermind behind the party, had just called it off.

Her hand shot out, knocking a framed photo of them both off the coffee table. The glass shattered, the sound sharp and violent in the otherwise quiet room. She didn’t even flinch.

The vibrant, colorful balloons she had carefully blown up earlier, now looked like deflated, sad, reminders of a dream that had burst before it could come true. She began pacing, her movements tight and jerky, her every thought a hot, simmering rage.