Gemotions

He stared at the gaudy envelope, the garish colors a personal affront. It was like they were mocking him. He’d worked so hard to escape the clutches of that small town, and now, after twenty years, they wanted him back. He ripped the invitation open, his movements jerky, the paper tearing raggedly. He imagined his classmates, the ones who had laughed at his dreams.

A burning sensation began in his chest. He shoved the crumpled invitation into the nearest trash can. He needed to get out, needed some air. He grabbed his keys, the metal cold and unfamiliar in his trembling hand. He’d drive, he’d drive far, and he’d leave the echoes of high school far behind.