Gemotions

Her breath hitched. She clutched her clutch so tightly, her knuckles were white. The champagne flute felt like it might shatter in her grip. Across the crowded reception hall, she saw him. He was talking animatedly with a group of people near the bar, his familiar laugh echoing faintly over the music. She felt a sudden, fierce urge to turn and flee, to disappear into the nearest ladies' room and stay there indefinitely.

The sudden drumming in her chest was so loud she thought surely everyone could hear it. She considered feigning a sudden illness, a dizzy spell, anything to excuse her from being in this exact spot. But then, their mutual friend, the bride, waved her over. She plastered a smile on her face, a brittle, fake thing, and began walking toward the inevitable.