Gemotions

She stared at the buffet table, the spread of food a kaleidoscope of colors that did nothing to lift the grayness that had settled over her. Her mother's favourite flowers, lilies, were displayed in the center of each table, their perfume cloying and almost offensive. Across the room, her mother was laughing, her face animated as she chatted with old colleagues.

The air in the room was thick with forced gaiety, the clinking of glasses and the murmur of conversations a dull roar in her ears. She picked at a miniature quiche, the pastry crumbling in her fingers. It was all a bit too much, too celebratory. This marked the end of an era, a feeling that settled heavily within her.

She excused herself from the buffet and slipped outside, into the cool night air. The city lights twinkled in the distance, a pale imitation of the stars she used to see with her father when she was little. The emptiness was a familiar ache, a constant companion.