Gemotions

The distant chatter from the barbecue drifted through the open window. It felt like a personal affront. Sarah’s knuckles were white as she clutched the edge of the counter. She imagined the laughter, the carefree clinking of glasses. Her own carefully planned quiet evening, gone.

She closed her eyes, trying to center herself. She’d tried ignoring it before, but the noise felt like an invasion. Like they were laughing at her.

"I need to talk to them." she muttered, pushing herself away from the counter. Her voice sounded strained, a thin thread of steel.