Gemotions

"Are you ready?" Maya’s mother asked, her voice laced with forced cheerfulness. Maya gripped the strap of her handbag so tightly her knuckles were white. The image of the crowded park, balloons and laughter, the party Liam was throwing for himself, was a black cloud in her mind.

She could barely swallow. Her throat felt tight, as though a hand were constricting it. She hadn’t slept well for days. The thought of seeing Liam, of pretending everything was alright, filled her with a profound unease. She needed to breathe.

“Yes,” Maya managed, her voice barely a whisper. She couldn’t look at her mother; she could only stare at the patterned pavement, a dizzying array of shapes that mirrored the turmoil inside her. The car ride was a blur, each passing street sign a step closer to the inevitable confrontation.