Gemotions

The cream-colored envelope felt heavy in Amelia's hand. She'd been staring at it for a full five minutes, the steam from her neglected coffee swirling around her face. Her breath hitched as she finally tore it open. The familiar script of the invitation to her twenty-year reunion seemed to mock her. The picture on the flyer—a class photo—was a cruel reminder of a time she’d desperately tried to bury.

She almost dropped the phone when it started vibrating in her pocket. It was her therapist, checking in. Amelia mumbled a greeting, her throat constricted. "How are you feeling today?" her therapist asked. "Fine," Amelia choked out, her voice barely a whisper. She stared at the invitation as she spoke, the glossy paper reflecting the sunlight like a shard of broken glass.