Gemotions

The balloons! Where were the balloons? Sarah arrived at the restaurant, clutching the gift bag she’d painstakingly wrapped in sparkly paper. The staff usually had the place decorated by now, but the only sign of life was a lone waiter polishing silverware. Her brow furrowed. This was… odd. She took a step toward the maitre d', her heart beginning to hammer against her ribs. "Everything alright?" she asked, her voice a little too high.

The maitre d', a man she usually found charming, seemed to shrink under her gaze. He shuffled his feet, avoiding eye contact. “Miss… um, Sarah,” he stammered. "There’s been… a change of plans."

A wave of… what was that feeling? Cold, like a sudden plunge into icy water, washed over her. She knew, with absolute certainty, that her friends and family wouldn't be here. The carefully crafted plans of a year were gone in an instant. She stood rooted to the spot, the gift bag dangling forgotten in her hand.