Gemotions

“Another round, right?” David’s voice, ringing with false camaraderie, grated on her nerves. She wanted to scream, to lash out. The office party was supposed to be a celebration, but to her, it felt like an extended, highly choreographed exercise in humiliation.

She took a long sip of her wine, the bitterness a poor match for the sourness bubbling inside her. She forced a smile, a mask designed to hide the storm brewing beneath the surface. Each toast, each congratulatory handshake, was a tiny jab, a reminder of what she had lost.

She noticed David, laughing and joking with their boss, and her carefully constructed facade began to crack. Her hand trembled as she reached for another glass of wine, the numbing effect a temporary reprieve from the gnawing in her gut.