Gemotions

Mark clutched the invitation like a lifeline, his knuckles white. The words swam before his eyes. He imagined the whispers, the knowing glances. He pictured them, all of them, gathered together, pointing, laughing.

He slammed the invitation onto the table, the sound echoing in the silent house. He felt the familiar prickle of sweat on his forehead. He needed to get away, to disappear. Maybe a vacation. He started to make the plans in his head. Somewhere far, where nobody would recognize him, or even think to look.

He walked over to the door and peered through the window blinds, searching the street. Had he seen that car parked there before? He couldn't be sure. He retreated back inside.