The room is dark, and buzzing with social limelight. She stands just a mere few feet away, catty corner to the throng of people circling the person she's waited all year to see. She holds her breath in an effort to tame her patience, and shifts from foot to foot, in an anxious dance. Her heart races. Her hands feel pale and damp. Her jaw is set in stone.
It's been months in the making but somehow this wait seems longer. All this time she's been preparing, been planning. She's played out what she's going to say so many times that she dreams about it, and even has answers for answers.
The girls nearby chat and flirt, effortless charm dripping from their perfectly manicured hands. She simultaneously sneers and longs to be one of them.
Her stomach tenses up, and she can feel herself breathe faster. It's been fifteen minutes now, but she's still just as tightly wound as she was at the start of the night. Her mouth feels dry, and muddy. Her cheeks feel warm and flushed. She steels her resolve, and tries to focus on the posters on the wall. Her eyes feel not quite themselves, and she keeps darting back to the tiny crowd ahead of her.
The people slowly fade, one by one. She can feel it coming. She can feel her turn just on the cusp. Part of her wants to slowly slink away, and part of her can't help but notice the bile building up in the pit of her abdomen. Closing her eyes, she tries to flatline her thoughts and steady the rest of her body.
He sees her, and smiles. She hits him back with a big, dumb grin.
He goes in for a hug. She gladly reciprocates.
And then her mind goes completely blank.