Gemotions

Sarah slammed the envelope onto the kitchen counter, the sound echoing in the silent apartment. It was addressed to "Sarah Miller," her maiden name, a name that felt foreign on her lips now. She hated it. The life that name represented was a constant ache.

She poured a glass of wine, her hand trembling slightly. The reunion, a curated display of the lives she had desperately wanted, seemed impossible to avoid. The small, cramped apartment suddenly felt suffocating. She opened a drawer, rummaging through old photos, a wave of nausea washing over her.

She picked up a picture of her and Mark, her ex-husband, taken at the prom. Their smiles seemed to taunt her now. The bitterness bubbled up, a sour taste on her tongue. It would be a cruel reunion, she thought, a showcase of her failures.