Gemotions

He stared at the invitation, the crisp white rectangle mocking him. He should be elated; it had been a long time. Instead, a wave of nausea washed over him, leaving a metallic taste in his mouth. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple as he gripped the invitation tighter. He read the words again, searching for an escape clause, a reason he couldn't go.

His gaze fell on the dust bunnies accumulating in the corner of his apartment, the unwashed dishes piled in the sink. The apartment was a mess, mirroring his own life. The thought of facing everyone, the carefully crafted facades, was overwhelming.

He reached for the bottle of whiskey, his hand shaking. He poured a generous amount into a chipped mug, the amber liquid glinting in the dim light. This wouldn't help. He gulped it down, the burn a temporary distraction from the gnawing anxiety that had taken hold.