Gemotions

The glossy invitation landed with a thud on the antique mahogany table, a stark contrast to the quiet elegance of the room. Amelia snatched it up, her fingers tightening around the crisp paper. Of all the nerve! After all this time, inviting *her* back to that… place. She practically crumpled the invitation in her fist, then took a deep breath, smoothing it out with deliberate care. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing her upset.

Amelia marched to the kitchen, the invitation clutched in her hand. “Darling, what’s this?” her husband, Charles, asked, looking up from his newspaper. She glared at him, then tossed it onto the kitchen island. He sighed, already knowing what it was. Her jaw tightened as she began to prepare a cup of tea, the clinking of the china a sharp counterpoint to the soft jazz playing in the background. She would not let this ruin her day.