Gemotions

Liam stared at the half-filled punch bowl. He'd envisioned a crowd, a bustling celebration of his thirtieth. Instead, there was his aunt, his cousin, and his neighbor, Mrs. Gable, who was already complaining about the loud music. The disco ball, a purchase he'd been so enthusiastic about, now seemed to mock him, reflecting the sparse light onto the empty dance floor.

He excused himself to the kitchen, seeking solace in the clinking of ice cubes. He poured himself a strong drink, the cold glass a small comfort against the heat creeping up his neck. He watched the stream of party pics flooding his feed from Maya's party. She'd always been better at this, at making people feel included.

"Everything alright, dear?" Mrs. Gable asked, peering in. Liam forced a smile. "Just fine." The words tasted like ash.