Gemotions

The envelope felt strangely heavy in Clara's hand. She knew the contents even before she opened it. The glossy photo on the website, featuring her old classmates, was a punch to the gut. All those beaming faces, the easy smiles, the perceived ease of their lives.

She walked to the bathroom, catching sight of her reflection. Her hair was pulled back in a practical, utilitarian ponytail. Her face held the faint marks of sleepless nights and demanding deadlines. A strange hollowness settled in her stomach.

She ripped the invitation into tiny pieces, the paper tearing easily in her hands. She stood there, the shredded remnants of her past scattered at her feet. She began to cry, silent tears tracing paths down her cheeks.