Gemotions

The party invite sat, a brightly colored rectangle, on the otherwise bare surface of his desk. Michael picked it up, turned it over, and then, with a sigh, put it back down. The gesture spoke volumes.

He felt a deep-seated weariness, a fatigue that ran bone-deep. The silence of his apartment was suddenly deafening. He wanted to retreat, to disappear, to avoid the inevitable comparisons and pronouncements.

He looked out the window. The world seemed muted, lacking vibrancy. He wondered, with a sharp pang, if he had missed his chance at happiness. The reunion seemed a particularly cruel reminder.