Gemotions

The caterer's endless stream of passed hors d'oeuvres felt like another layer of obligation layered onto Sarah's already overloaded existence. She kept pushing them aside, not hungry, barely capable of making a decision about anything. She stood near the bar, watching the other guests with a blank stare, and desperately hoped nobody would notice her.

A hand tapped her shoulder, and she flinched. It was Daniel, his usually jovial expression replaced with a look of concern. His presence, once a source of comfort, now felt like an unwelcome intrusion.

"Sarah? Are you okay?" he asked, his voice softer than usual.

"Fine," she replied, the word devoid of any inflection. She couldn't meet his gaze, staring instead at the condensation on her untouched water glass. The effort of maintaining a facade felt immense.