Gemotions

The embossed invitation felt heavy in Daniel's hand, like a judgment. He crumpled it in his fist, then smoothed it again, the paper surprisingly resilient. The return address was a fancy hotel in the city, the kind he only saw on TV. He'd avoided that part of town ever since… well, ever since. He tossed the invitation onto the growing pile of bills on his kitchen table, the cluttered surface a stark contrast to the polished image of the reunion.

His apartment was small, cramped. The paint was peeling, and the smell of old takeout clung to the air. He hadn't bothered to really clean it in weeks. He glanced at his reflection in the smudged window – a tired man with a faded, unremarkable face. What was the point, anyway? He picked up the bottle of beer he'd been nursing, took a long swig, and closed his eyes.

Later, he considered it. He imagined running into Sarah, his high school sweetheart. What would he even say? He hadn't amounted to anything. He'd be the joke. The one who’d failed.