Gemotions

“This is ridiculous,” Claire muttered, tapping her foot against the tiled floor of her kitchen. The invitation, with its glossy photograph of her graduating class, taunted her from the fridge door. She glanced at the clock; the hands seemed to be moving in slow motion. She ran her hands through her hair, her fingers tangling in the strands. The anticipation was eating her alive. Each tick of the clock was another moment until she could finally show everyone how wrong they were about her.