Gemotions

The invitation felt heavy in Eleanor's hand, like a stone. *Surprise!* it proclaimed, in bubbly, childish script. Her own birthday, just around the corner. She'd been anticipating this, clinging to the hope of connection, of feeling seen. Now, a quick text from her friend, Chloe: "Hey, something's come up. Party's off."

Her breath hitched. She scrolled through the contact list, a sea of names she barely knew, people who likely wouldn't notice if she vanished. A tremor started in her jaw, a physical manifestation of the ache in her chest. She crumpled the card, the paper tearing easily in her grip, mirroring the hollowness inside.

She dragged herself to the kitchen, the linoleum cold beneath her bare feet. The apartment felt vast, empty, echoing with the silence of unmet expectations. She stared at the cereal boxes, the bright colors mocking her. She wasn't hungry.