Gemotions

My stomach lurched as I saw her. Across the crowded reception hall, amidst the flashing camera bulbs and the boisterous laughter, there she was. My breath hitched. I felt a coldness creep up my spine. My carefully constructed facade of casual confidence threatened to crumble.

I grabbed another canapé, my fingers fumbling with the tiny fork. The delicate pastry offered little solace. My eyes darted around the room, desperately seeking an escape route. The champagne flute in my hand felt suddenly heavy, an anchor tethering me to this nightmare.

"Excuse me," I mumbled to the woman beside me, my voice barely a whisper. I needed to move, to find a place, any place, where I could be alone to collect myself. My legs felt like lead as I navigated the sea of well-wishers.