Gemotions

Michael slammed the refrigerator door, the sound echoing in his otherwise silent apartment. He surveyed its sparse contents: a half-eaten container of yogurt, a wilting head of lettuce, and a lone, slightly green banana. Lunch. He’d barely eaten breakfast. And now this. The invitation, tucked amidst a pile of unpaid bills, mocked him with its glossy paper and upbeat font.

He slumped onto the sofa, the cheap cushions doing little to alleviate the tension knotted in his shoulders. He felt a throbbing ache behind his eyes. The reunion. He imagined the smug smiles, the manufactured successes. He let out a frustrated grunt, kicking a stray magazine across the room.