Gemotions

He stared at the invitation, the glossy photo of the school gymnasium a mocking reminder of his former self. His mouth felt dry. The date, circled in red marker, burned into his memory. He didn't want to go.

He paced the confines of his small apartment, restless energy thrumming through him. He found himself picking at the peeling paint on the window frame, a nervous habit he'd adopted years ago. He had a reputation to uphold. He had built up a persona, a wall. To go back would shatter it.

The thought of facing his classmates, of being seen, judged, and dissected, sent shivers down his spine. The past was a minefield, filled with memories he'd tried so hard to forget. He felt a desperate need to disappear, to evade this looming specter of the past. He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture frantic.