Gemotions

The email arrived as she was eating a sandwich at her desk, a dry tuna concoction she had brought from home. The email detailed the lavish birthday party her neighbor, Sarah, was throwing for her dog. A dog! Champagne for the humans, gourmet treats for the canine guests. She tossed the remainder of her sandwich into the trash.

She reread the invitation. The venue was a swanky hotel ballroom. The dress code? Cocktail attire. She shuddered. She hadn't bought a new dress in years.

She clicked "delete." Then she clicked "undo." She needed a way to express her utter disdain.

She scrolled through the guest list, a list of people she knew, all equally charmed by Sarah's wealth. She needed to do something, anything, to puncture their little bubble of happiness. She was absolutely certain that nothing good would come from the birthday party. She'd get sick and not be able to attend.