Gemotions

He ripped the invitation open, the paper tearing raggedly at the edges. Mark read the words – "Fifteen Year Reunion" – and a sour taste coated his mouth. Fifteen years. He hadn't changed, not really, but everyone else likely had. He snorted, picturing them: successful, smug, probably still talking about the glory days of the football team.

His hand tightened around the crumpled paper. He pictured the gymnasium, smelling of stale sweat and regret. He slammed his fist on the desk, the impact echoing in the otherwise silent apartment. "No," he muttered aloud, the word a harsh, flat refusal. He wouldn't go. He wouldn't subject himself to their pitying glances or the backhanded compliments. He wouldn't let them see how…fine he was.

He pushed away from the desk, already imagining the excuses he’d concoct should anyone find out and ask.