Gemotions

The invitation sat on Amelia's fridge, a gleaming beacon of potential disaster. Leo’s party, same day, same time. A wave of heat washed over her, making her palms slick. She hadn't even started planning hers, just a vague notion of a garden gathering. Now, that seemed laughable.

She slammed the fridge door, the sound echoing in the sudden quiet of the kitchen. Her own invitation, a hastily scribbled note, suddenly felt flimsy, inadequate. A choked sound escaped her throat.

"Okay," she muttered, grabbing her phone. "Okay, let's just… pivot." Her fingers fumbled on the screen, opening a spreadsheet she swore she’d closed. The cursor blinked, mocking her. She ran a hand through her hair, the strands tangling in her desperate attempt to bring order to the chaos.