Gemotions

A crisp, white envelope landed on Amelia's doormat, disrupting the carefully constructed peace of her morning. She recognized the crest instantly – Northwood High. Bile rose in her throat. She snatched it up, her fingers trembling slightly, and retreated to the kitchen.

The invitation promised an evening of nostalgia and reconnecting. Amelia wanted to hurl it across the room. Instead, she slowly ripped it open. The glossy photo of the class of '04, all youthful smiles and carefree poses, mocked her. She was certain they all knew she'd become…this.

She crumpled the invitation in her hand, the paper crunching loudly in the otherwise silent kitchen. Her chest felt constricted, as if a weight had settled there. Maybe she could just say she was busy. The idea offered a brief, fleeting moment of relief. Then the internal voice, the one that never let up, chimed in. "They're all doing better than you."