Gemotions

The champagne flute nearly slipped from Leo’s grip. He steadied it, knuckles white, as the room swam into sharper focus. Across the crowded dance floor, bathed in the lurid glow of the disco ball, stood Maya. She was laughing, her head thrown back, a stranger's arm casually draped around her shoulders. His stomach lurched, a cold, empty cavity. He had not anticipated her being here, not at Emily and David’s wedding. He thought she was out of state.

Leo felt as if the floor had tilted on a severe angle. He took a hasty gulp of champagne, the bubbles doing little to soothe the sudden dryness in his mouth. He found himself backing away, attempting a retreat toward the bar, his movements jerky and unnatural. He hoped she hadn’t seen him.

He was suddenly and acutely aware of the tightness of his collar, the oppressive weight of his rented tuxedo. He felt foolish, out of place, an extra on a stage he hadn't auditioned for. He wanted to vanish.