Gemotions

"No, no, that can’t be right," Mark whispered, reading the message again. The party, the surprise, the carefully crafted plan – all erased with a single line: "Change of plans." His world tilted. He had anticipated his friends’ visit all week.

He slumped against the kitchen counter, the granite cool against his warm cheek. The decorations, already delivered, lay in a heap in the hallway. He felt a throbbing ache behind his eyes, a sensation like a pressure cooker about to explode.

He hadn’t realized how much he’d been relying on this, how much it had lifted him. Now, the prospect of the evening, once a source of comfort, filled him with a desolate emptiness. He felt the need to get out, he needed air.