Gemotions

The invitation sat on Amelia's fridge, a cruel reminder of the date. Liam's party. The same day as hers. A cold dread seeped into her bones. She chewed on her thumbnail, the plastic taste a poor substitute for comfort.

Her stomach churned, a constant, unwelcome companion. The thought of facing Liam, of seeing his guests and their inevitable comparisons, made her want to run and hide. She squeezed her eyes shut, imagining the scene: Liam, beaming, surrounded by well-wishers, while her own party, she suspected, would be a desolate affair.

She picked at the corner of the flyer again, her fingers growing numb. The colour was starting to bleed from the paper, like a physical manifestation of her own fading confidence. Why did this have to happen? Why the same day? The anxiety was a physical weight, pressing down on her chest.