Gemotions

The invitation sat on the kitchen counter, a pristine white rectangle mocking Amelia with its cheerful font. Retirement party. For Mom and Dad. Amelia’s stomach clenched, and she found herself staring at the kettle, even though she wasn't particularly thirsty. How could she possibly sum up twenty years of service, the countless early mornings and late nights? She ran a hand through her hair, a nervous gesture she’d adopted as a child. The thought of standing up in front of all those people, her relatives, her parents' work colleagues...it was overwhelming.

The speech was due next week. Amelia kept putting it off, busying herself with other tasks, anything to avoid the inevitable. She glanced at the clock, then at the overflowing laundry basket. Laundry, she decided, was more manageable than crafting a eulogy for a phase of life still very much in progress.