Gemotions

The email arrived with the subject line, “Your 20-Year Reunion!” Evelyn let out a short, involuntary sound that was something between a gasp and a retch. She quickly minimized the window. Twenty years. Really?

She scrolled through the rest of her inbox, then back to the email. The sender's name—Brenda something, class president, of course—made her skin crawl. She knew exactly what would be waiting for her if she opened the invitation: a meticulously planned event, overflowing with carefully curated memories designed to showcase how everyone had "succeeded."

Evelyn leaned back in her chair, a coldness spreading through her limbs. She imagined the awkward encounters, the pointed questions about her career, and the inevitable comparisons. She closed her eyes, and a wave of dizziness washed over her.