Gemotions

The ornate invitation was an insult. A provocation. Brenda crumpled it in her hand, then smoothed it out, smoothing it as if this could make the threat less potent.

She slammed the door shut, then spun around, immediately checking the locks. She walked through each room of her house, ensuring every window was closed and sealed, every light switch in the correct position.

She felt like she was being watched. The walls seemed to close in, the air becoming thin, difficult to breathe. She started to rehearse what she would say. What she wouldn't say.