Gemotions

He’d said he was bringing a date. *Of course* he was. Sarah saw them first: him, impossibly handsome, and a woman who looked like she’d stepped out of a magazine, a glossy advertisement for everything Sarah wasn't. Her meticulously applied lipstick suddenly felt garish, her hair a frizzy mess.

The band started playing a slow song, and suddenly everyone was partnered up, swaying. Sarah found herself cornered by the buffet table, inspecting a crudité platter with far too much intensity. The asparagus looked particularly judgmental.

She considered fleeing to the bathroom, hiding in a stall until the wedding was over. But that would be even more mortifying. Instead, she plastered on a smile when he finally caught her eye. "Sarah! You look… great." The words felt hollow, even to her own ears.

"You too, Mark," she said, her voice barely a whisper. She hoped he couldn't see the way her hands were clenching.