Gemotions

The invitation landed on the kitchen counter with a dull thud. He’d been meaning to clear that spot for days, but the effort required to move the pile of mail and takeout menus seemed insurmountable. He sighed, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent apartment. "High School Reunion," the glossy card announced. He nudged it with his toe. Maybe later.

He settled back onto the sofa, the cushions molding comfortably to his form. The remote control, conveniently positioned, beckoned. He flicked through channels, each option feeling equally unappealing. Food, that was the thing. He considered the fridge, but even the brief walk to the kitchen felt like a marathon. He'd probably just skip it.

He thought about the people he'd see. They'd all have stories, achievements. He imagined the inevitable comparisons, the forced smiles. Another reason to avoid the ordeal, he decided, and let his eyelids fall shut.