Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the tempest brewing inside Amelia. Balloons, limp and deflated, lay scattered across the floor, casualties of the morning's phone call. She'd spent weeks planning this: the theme, the guest list, the elaborate cake she’d meticulously designed. Now, the kitchen, usually a space of warm anticipation, felt colder than the marble countertops. She picked listlessly at a stray piece of confetti, her fingers tracing its flimsy edges. A sigh escaped her, a sound like the wind whispering through dead leaves.