Gemotions

The invitation arrived with a flourish, embossed on thick cardstock. "Exclusive Cocktail Soiree," it declared, followed by the name of the law firm where Mark supposedly toiled. Sarah ran her finger over the raised lettering, a frown creasing her brow. Mark, a lawyer? She pictured him, all ripped jeans and late-night gaming sessions, and the image just didn't compute.

She’d agreed to go, of course. For appearances, mostly. And to see what this event was all about. As she walked in, the music was loud and the guests were dressed to the nines. Mark saw her and grinned, striding forward in a suit that looked like it had been custom-made. He had a glass of something amber in his hand, a little too close to the edge.

"Sarah! You made it. Glad to see you!" His smile seemed a little forced, she noticed.

"It's quite the place, Mark," she said, her voice carefully neutral. Her gaze flickered over the sleek, modern architecture, the hushed conversations of people who actually looked like they knew their way around a courtroom.