Gemotions

The cream-colored envelope landed on the doormat with a dull thud, the embossed calligraphy screaming its purpose. Amelia nearly tripped over it on her way to the kitchen, kicking it slightly under the small table. Her breakfast was already burning. She ignored the acrid smell and pretended not to notice the letter’s presence until she absolutely had to.

Later, while ostensibly "working" on the spreadsheets that filled her days, she found herself staring at the offending item. Her hands began to sweat, and a strange pressure built behind her eyes. *Seven years,* the invitation mocked in her peripheral vision. Seven years since she'd fled the town, the school, the *memories*.

She ripped the envelope open, the paper tearing raggedly. The flimsy card felt like a judgement. The date, the time, the location – all perfectly designed to induce maximum discomfort. A wave of heat washed over her, making her cheeks flush. She crumpled the invitation and threw it in the trash without a second thought.