Gemotions

The phone vibrated on the table, a stark, unwelcome intrusion. "Sorry, hon. We can't make it. Something came up." The words, from her mother, felt like a slap. Sarah had spent weeks preparing, trying to prove she was capable, worthy of celebration.

The cake, still in its box on the counter, seemed to taunt her with its sweet promise. The brightly coloured streamers, hanging limply from the ceiling, mocked her. She had poured her heart into this, hoping for connection, for validation.

She stared at the closed door, the hallway stretching before her, a long, empty corridor of disappointment. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to ward off the sudden, icy cold that had enveloped her. She felt small, insignificant.