Gemotions

The invitation landed on the table, a stark white rectangle against the dark wood. He stared at it, his face contorted in a grimace. The memories, unwanted and unwelcome, flooded back: the insults, the laughter, the feeling of being an outsider. He pushed his chair back with a scraping sound.

He walked over to the window, staring out at the rain-swept street. The world outside seemed just as bleak as the feelings churning inside him. Each rain drop a reminder of his misery.

He clenched his fists, the muscles in his arms tensing. The sheer audacity of it, of them wanting to celebrate… He wanted to scream.