Gemotions

"You really should come," Mr. Peterson had said, his voice brimming with a friendly warmth. "It's a wonderful opportunity." He'd been talking about the charity gala he and his wife were hosting. Michael, staring at the invitation, couldn't imagine himself at such an event. He couldn’t even afford a new pair of shoes, let alone a tuxedo. He glanced through his window, seeing the long, black cars pulling up next door, carrying the guests. The music and laughter from the party drifted over to his house. He placed the invitation on his desk, next to his overdue bills. He pulled the blanket up over his shoulders, the worn fabric offering a small sense of solace.