Gemotions

"Oh, *hell* no," whispered Chloe, her voice a low growl. The glossy invitation, a picture of her younger self surrounded by smiling classmates, now lay crumpled in the trash can. She envisioned the polite small talk, the forced smiles, the careful comparisons. The thought made her stomach clench.

She marched to her closet, pulling out a leather jacket and a pair of boots she hadn't worn in years. Tonight, she would paint her nails a defiant black and go dancing. She'd surround herself with noise and strangers and forget all about the people who'd once labeled her.