Gemotions

The invitation had sat on the kitchen counter for a week, a passive-aggressive indictment of his prolonged stillness. He knew he should be there, supporting Liam and Sarah. But the thought of getting dressed, driving, making small talk… it felt like climbing Mount Everest. He finally tugged on a wrinkled shirt and jeans, the fabric clinging to him with a familiar, unwelcome stickiness. He arrived at the reception just as the champagne was being poured.

He saw her across the crowded room, a splash of red amidst the sea of formal wear. He considered turning around, retreating to the car, but it was too late. Their eyes met, and a silent, uncomfortable acknowledgement passed between them. He sighed inwardly, resigning himself to the inevitable.

“Well, this is… unexpected,” she said, a small, almost imperceptible smile playing on her lips. He shrugged, managing a weak smile of his own. The effort of the whole thing was exhausting.