Gemotions

The embossed invitation felt heavy in Daniel's hand, almost like lead. He’d avoided opening it for a week, letting it languish on the cluttered kitchen counter amidst bills and takeout menus. Now, the glossy photograph of the school's facade, untouched by the passage of time, stared back at him. He glanced at the overflowing sink, the chipped paint on the cabinets, the general disarray that mirrored his life. A sigh escaped him, a sound filled with the weight of years.

His gaze flickered to the mirror, and the lines etched around his eyes seemed deeper than he remembered. He traced them with a calloused fingertip, a grimace twisting his lips. He thought of Emily, the prom queen, the girl he’d been too shy to ask out. He hadn’t seen her in twenty years.

The thought of attending, of seeing all those faces – the successful, the happy, the untarnished – clawed at his insides. He crumpled the invitation, then slowly smoothed it out again, the paper crinkling in protest. Maybe, he mused, he'd send a donation. It seemed a safer option.