Gemotions

The cream-colored envelope felt heavy in her hand. Sarah turned it over and over, the embossed lettering mocking her. "Northwood High - Ten Year Reunion." She hadn't thought about Northwood in years, hadn't thought about *them* in years. The living room suddenly felt too small, the walls closing in. She almost dropped the invitation, her fingers clammy. What in the world was she supposed to do now?

The familiar scent of lavender from the potpourri on the coffee table seemed to intensify, cloying and unpleasant. A wave of heat washed over her, making her cheeks flush. She hadn't seen any of these people since graduation. A decade. The thought was staggering. She ran a hand through her hair, finding a few stray strands of grey.

"Well, this is just great," she muttered, the words barely audible. She reached for the remote and flipped the channel, then flipped it again. Nothing seemed to hold her attention. The muted drone of the television seemed to mock her.