Gemotions

A wave of… what *was* this feeling?… washed over Mark as he tore open the envelope. The glossy invitation, promising cocktails and nostalgia, seemed to mock him. Twenty years. Really? He hadn’t felt twenty in a good fifteen years. He ran a hand through his thinning hair, a gesture of confusion he’d performed a thousand times.

He’d avoided all these kinds of events like the plague. High school. A blurry landscape of awkward dances and crushing loneliness. He squinted at the date, a week from Saturday. He’d have to cancel his dentist appointment.

He sighed, the air escaping his lungs in a long, slow whoosh. He’d have to find a suit that still fit. He really had no idea why he felt the way he did about this.