Gemotions

The champagne flute trembled in Amelia’s hand, a tiny earthquake reflecting the larger one inside her. She hadn't seen him in over a year, not since the abrupt ending. The floral arrangements, usually a source of joy for her, seemed to pulsate with an unwelcome energy. He was standing near the bar, talking to Mark, his back to her, and the sight of him sent a jolt down her spine. The air felt thick, heavy with unspoken history.

Her breath hitched. She took a large gulp of the champagne, trying to steady herself. The bubbles tickled her nose, an unwelcome distraction. She considered excusing herself, disappearing to the restroom, but knew that would only postpone the inevitable. She smoothed down her dress, the fabric suddenly feeling coarse against her skin.