Gemotions

The embossed invitation felt heavy in Elara's hand. The glossy paper seemed to mock her, reflecting the harsh fluorescent light of her kitchen. "Come back and celebrate," it urged, as if fourteen years hadn't passed in a blink and left her feeling… hollowed out. She crumpled it, then smoothed it again, the creases a map of her own anxieties.

A tremor ran through her as she remembered the prom queen, the star quarterback, the effortless ease of the 'in' crowd. She still caught herself comparing her life, which felt… small, to the perceived successes of others. Her palms were damp.

Her phone buzzed. It was a reminder from her therapist. She let out a breath, her chest tightening. Therapy helped, mostly. Sometimes.