Gemotions

The invitation felt heavy in Elara’s hand, a physical manifestation of the afternoon’s apprehension. She'd been expecting a call, a text, something. Anything. A friend was supposed to have reached out hours ago with details for tonight. Now, the sun bled orange and purple across the sky, painting the empty street in a false sense of cheer. Her breath hitched. She chewed at her lip, a habit she thought she'd broken years ago, as the silence of her apartment began to press in.

The scent of the lasagna, already cooling in the oven, suddenly felt wrong. *Too much food,* she thought irrationally, running a hand through her hair. A nervous energy vibrated through her, like static electricity. She reached for her phone again, a gesture born of compulsion. Still nothing.