Gemotions

The invitation was crisp, the calligraphy impeccable. A masked ball, it declared, in his honor. Now, standing outside the opulent mansion, a handwritten note taped to the wrought-iron gate, "Cancelled," felt like a punch to the gut. He reread it, his brow furrowing as he tried to fathom the change of plans. The date, the time, everything had seemed so definitive. He scratched at his chin, a nervous habit he hadn't realized he possessed. The air around him suddenly felt thin, as if he couldn't quite catch his breath.