Gemotions

The brightly colored invitation sat propped up against the salt shaker on the dining table. Jessica stared at it, a frown etching deep lines into her forehead. She stabbed at her scrambled eggs with a fork, barely registering the taste.

“Thirty years,” she muttered under her breath, a low growl of frustration in her voice. “Thirty years of… well, of *this*.” She flicked the corner of the invitation, a silent act of defiance.

Later, she found herself staring out the window, her gaze fixed on the bustling street below. The thought of stepping back into that world, of reliving those formative years, filled her with a profound sense of weariness. She sighed, her shoulders slumping.