Gemotions

The invitation sat on her kitchen counter, a glossy testament to Amelia's supposed success. A "Senior Partner Gala" at the Grand Majestic Hotel. Amelia, the solicitor. Or, at least, that's what Amelia had always claimed. A low, bitter laugh escaped Clara's lips. She’d always found the late nights, the designer handbags, the relentless talk of "billable hours"… a bit much. Now, it made sense.

Clara crumpled the invitation in her fist. The paper crackled like the lies that had been spewed for years. She threw it in the trash with a force that made the bin rattle. Then she grabbed her keys and headed for the bakery, knowing full well what would be on the menu today.