Gemotions

“Oh, great,” Maria muttered under her breath, staring at the invitation. The small, white card seemed to mock her. She’d spent the last twenty years meticulously avoiding any reminders of her past. Now this.

She tossed the card onto the counter. The kitchen, usually her sanctuary, felt cramped and claustrophobic. She grabbed a dish towel, her grip tight, and began to aggressively scrub at a stain on the countertop, the repetitive motion doing little to quell her rising agitation. She felt a headache begin to form behind her eyes.