Gemotions

The afternoon sun streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air, a stark contrast to the gloom that seemed to emanate from Ethan. He sat at his kitchen table, the invitation lying before him like a dropped gauntlet.

He tapped a finger against the glossy paper, the rhythmic drumming a counterpoint to the quiet desperation building inside him. He felt pinned down, held in place by the weight of unspoken regrets. The gathering... a painful reminder of everything that could have been.

He felt a surge of heat in his cheeks, a flush that had nothing to do with the temperature. "No," he said aloud, the word a clipped, sharp rejection. He knew, despite the protest, he would go.