Gemotions

He ran a hand through his thinning hair, the invitation crumpled in his grip. The paper crackled, a brittle sound that mirrored the tension coiling inside him. He hadn't seen most of these people in years. What would they think of him now?

"Stupid," he grumbled, tossing the invitation onto the counter with a loud thud. His heart pounded against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat against his stillness. He poured a generous amount of whiskey into a glass, his hand trembling slightly.

The thought of small talk and reminiscing made him want to bolt. He had a million things to do, he thought, staring at the swirling amber liquid. A hundred emails to answer, a project to finish. Anything but go. The knot in his stomach tightened; it felt like a cold stone.