Gemotions

A tremor ran through Barry. He’d found the embossed invitation nestled amongst a pile of bills. He almost dropped it. The sheer arrogance of it! After all these years, daring to ask him to participate in a nostalgic exercise in self-congratulation. He shuddered. His jaw clenched.

He pictured the faces, frozen in the amber of youthful folly, their futures already mapped out in the predictability of suburban lives. He slammed the envelope onto the kitchen counter, the sound sharp and violent. His hand instinctively reached for a cigarette, though he'd quit years ago. The phantom craving was a familiar, unwelcome guest.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to light the whole thing on fire. Instead, he forced himself to breathe, focusing on the slow, deliberate rhythm of it.