Gemotions

The invitation lay face-up on the dining room table, illuminated by the harsh overhead light. It was a beacon of a past that she had long tried to bury. She walked to it, though every step felt as if they were made through heavy mud.

She ran her hand across the glossy surface, the smooth texture a stark contrast to the rough edges of her life. She hadn't felt this way in a long time. Her throat constricted.

She thought of the carefree girl she once was, a ghost of laughter and boundless optimism. Where had she gone?

She sank into a chair, the room suddenly closing in. The thought of seeing those faces, the forced conversations, filled her with dread.