Gemotions

The embossed invitation felt like a physical blow as it landed on the kitchen counter. Sarah snatched it up, fingers clenching. Twenty years. Twenty years since she’d walked those hallowed halls, since she’d seen the faces of the people who’d made her life a living hell. A vein in her forehead throbbed.

She crumpled the paper in her fist, then smoothed it out with a savage gesture. The small town hadn’t changed, according to the pictures on the glossy card. Same drab buildings, same smug smiles. “RSVP,” it demanded, as if she *wanted* to attend.

Her jaw tightened. The thought of seeing *him* again, the star quarterback, the king of the world, sent a shiver of pure, unadulterated… something… through her. She slammed the invitation onto the counter with a loud thud, the sound echoing in the silent kitchen.