Gemotions

The invitation sat on the kitchen counter, radiating a silent, persistent hostility. Emily avoided it, circling around the counter like a wary animal. It felt like a trap, a meticulously laid snare designed to ensnare her in a web of unwanted recollections.

She considered various methods of disposal: fire, shredding, submersion in water. The details were unimportant; only the act of removal mattered.

The thought of attending, of being forced to make small talk with people she barely remembered, was enough to trigger a rapid pulse, and a sudden, urgent need to flee.