Gemotions

He opened the embossed invitation with a paper knife, the metal glinting in the dim light of his study. *Reunion. Class of '99.* The words blurred slightly. He took a step back, the familiar room suddenly seeming to shrink. The bookshelves, usually a comfort, now loomed, their spines a dizzying array of colors and titles. He felt a pressure building in his chest.

He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands. He could barely remember his senior year, only flashes of parties, laughter, the endless pressure of college applications. A cold sweat prickled his skin. He needed air. He walked to the window, the city lights below a vast, incomprehensible tapestry.

His reflection stared back, a stranger with familiar features. This person was supposed to go to a reunion? He didn't think he could do this.