Gemotions

"He *knew*," Sarah muttered to herself, staring at the glittering flyer for David's yacht party. The same day, the same time. After months of meticulously planning her vintage tea party at the local manor house, he’d just…copied her.

A hot flush of anger rose up her neck. David's party was going to be the “it” event. She could practically taste the champagne already; champagne she wouldn't be offered. She made a mental note to subtly rearrange the seating chart.

She’d sent out extra invitations. Each one, a small act of defiance. The caterers were instructed to prepare an extravagant display of finger sandwiches, the tiny sandwiches that David claimed he hated. And her friends? She sent them secret messages urging them to wear something *completely* inappropriate for a yacht. Let him have his perfect evening.