Gemotions

The invitation landed on the kitchen counter with a dull thud, the glossy paper mocking her with its cheerful font. Sarah slammed the refrigerator door shut, the force rattling the Tupperware inside. Her jaw clenched as she grabbed a carton of orange juice, the cardboard feeling slick and cheap beneath her fingers. She hated these things. Reunions. Like some mandatory performance review of your life, judged by people who barely knew you.

"Ugh," she muttered, pouring herself a glass, the liquid sloshing over the rim. She pictured the inevitable conversations – the boasts about promotions, the tales of perfect families, the pitying looks for those who hadn't "made it." She gulped down the juice, the sweetness failing to soothe the knot tightening in her stomach.