Gemotions

The champagne flute trembled in Amelia’s hand, the bubbles reflecting the garish floral arrangements. She'd spent the last hour meticulously avoiding the dance floor, her gaze fixed on a particularly uninspired centerpiece. Each forced smile felt like a physical exertion, her jaw aching with the effort.

A familiar voice cut through the polite chatter. "Amelia? Fancy seeing you here." It was David, impossibly handsome in his perfectly tailored suit, a luminous smile gracing his features. He was with Sarah, who radiated effortless beauty and grace.

Amelia’s carefully constructed facade threatened to crumble. Her cheeks flushed, and she could feel a bead of sweat trickle down her spine. "Oh, hey David. Sarah," she mumbled, her voice barely audible. The words felt clumsy, inadequate. She wished the floor would swallow her whole.