Gemotions

The envelope, addressed in a familiar, overly cheerful cursive, lay unopened on the kitchen table. Amelia avoided it like a plague. She busied herself with washing dishes, the rhythmic clinking a futile attempt to distract herself.

She finally picked it up, her fingers trembling ever so slightly, and the corners of her mouth tightened. The embossed crest of her old high school felt like a taunt.

"Come celebrate *us*!" it read. The audacity of "us". She rolled her eyes, her shoulders sagging. She considered ripping it to shreds. She considered calling the caterer and ordering food to be delivered to her house. She considered going to bed and staying there until it was all over.