Gemotions

The invitation felt heavy in Elara’s hand, the glossy paper a stark contrast to the rough skin of her palm. She’d spent weeks agonizing over what to wear, settling on a dress that, if she was honest, felt a little too flashy. Now, standing outside her apartment, the parking lot a deserted expanse under the sodium streetlights, she felt a distinct chill, though the air was mild.

Her phone buzzed. A text: “So sorry. Something came up. Party’s off.” Her fingers tightened on the phone, the screen blooming with a bleak, white light. She thought about the cake, already ordered, the friends she'd hoped to see, the small, tentative hope she’d nurtured for an evening of uncomplicated joy. It all seemed to drain away, leaving her hollowed out.

She let out a long, shaky breath. The door to her apartment beckoned, a dark, silent void. She walked inside, leaving the invitation on the welcome mat.