Gemotions

The invitation crackled in Amelia’s trembling hand, the glossy paper a stark contrast to the chipped paint on her kitchen table. Her jaw clenched. Five years. Five years since she’d seen any of them. Each carefully chosen word on the invitation, the promises of “nostalgia” and “catching up,” felt like a personal assault. Her stomach churned, a cold knot forming in her gut. She flicked the envelope across the table and watched it slide towards the spilled coffee stain. This was a disaster.

A sudden, sharp ache ripped through her chest, a physical manifestation of her unease. She reached for the phone, then snatched her hand back, her knuckles white. Should she call her sister? No. Better to try to sort it out herself. She needed a plan.

The house seemed to shrink around her, the familiar walls closing in. She paced the length of her living room, her steps quick and agitated, as if she could outrun her own insecurities. Every memory of high school, every perceived slight, every perceived failure, flashed before her eyes.