Gemotions

John crumpled the invitation in his fist, the expensive paper crinkling under the pressure. He threw it into the trash can. He hated this. Absolutely hated it. He immediately retrieved the crumpled mess, smoothing it out as best he could, almost as if he was afraid of upsetting it, of making it angry.

He felt the sudden urge to go for a run, anything to escape the spiraling thoughts. He pictured the sneers, the judgments, the inevitable comparisons. Would he be considered a success? Would they think he was a failure? He could barely stand. He sat on the sofa, then he stood back up.

He decided that he needed a drink.