Gemotions

The floral arrangements seemed to mock Eleanor with their vibrant colors. She’d meticulously chosen this shade of lavender for her own wedding, a wedding that never happened. Now, here she was, at her friend’s celebration, enduring the well-meaning questions about why she was single, and the sympathetic glances. The atmosphere of joy was like a physical pressure, squeezing the air from her lungs.

She saw him across the dance floor. Michael, holding hands with a girl she’d never seen before, her back arched as she danced. Eleanor felt a hot flush rush over her skin. The music, which had sounded pleasant moments ago, now grated on her nerves. She abruptly excused herself, using a bathroom break as an excuse.