Gemotions

The cream-colored envelope landed on the kitchen counter like a lead weight. Sarah stared at it, the embossed script mocking her. "High School Reunion," it declared. A sigh escaped her, a sound like air leaking from a punctured tire. She’d been staring at the overflowing sink, avoiding the mountain of dirty dishes, for the last hour.

Her fingers, usually quick and efficient, felt sluggish as she finally picked up the invitation. The paper felt slick and expensive, unlike anything she’d dealt with lately. A tremor went through her, a ripple of something akin to dread.

The thought of facing those people, of small talk and forced smiles, twisted in her gut. She’d rather scrub toilets with a toothbrush than endure the charade.