Gemotions

He’d been rearranging his sock drawer, something he did when he was feeling… unsettled. The pristine white envelope, adorned with the school's logo, lay amidst the neatly folded pairs. Mark stopped, mid-sort, his hand suspended in mid-air. He blinked.

He sat down heavily on the bed, the organized chaos of his life suddenly seeming utterly absurd. His meticulously planned career, his comfortable routine, all of it felt… flimsy. The invitation, a stark white rectangle, felt like a judgment.

His breath hitched in his throat. He thought of the people he’d known, the rivalries, the crushes, the sheer vulnerability of those formative years. How had everyone changed? He didn't want to know. He didn't want to see them again. Yet, a tiny voice inside him whispered, "What if…?"