Gemotions

"So, no party then?" Sarah asked, her voice flat. Her brother, the supposed mastermind behind the whole thing, just mumbled an apology, avoiding eye contact. She let out a small, tight laugh, the sound brittle and unfamiliar. The kitchen, usually bustling with the scent of baking and excited chatter, now smelled only of stale coffee and unspoken words. She gripped the counter so hard her knuckles were white. She'd envisioned this for months: the toasts, the laughter, the feeling of being celebrated. Now, the anticipation felt like a cruel joke.