Gemotions

The glossy invitation, plastered with photos of grinning teenagers, sat like a curse on the coffee table. Mark stared at it, a knot forming in his stomach. The glossy paper felt cold and slick beneath his fingertips. He felt his shoulders bunch up, and he rubbed them unconsciously, trying to ease the sudden tension.

The prospect of seeing those people again, of listening to their boasts about their careers and families… it was enough to make him want to flee the country. He glanced at the overflowing ashtray on the table. The thought of all that forced social interaction made him want to light another cigarette, and he quickly stood up and started pacing his living room.