Gemotions

The ornate script seemed to mock her, taunting her from the coffee table. She considered it an intrusion, a rude interruption to the carefully managed quietude of her life. The high school reunion was a siren call, a promise of something she’d rather avoid.

She took a slow, deliberate sip of her tea, the warm liquid a small comfort. She hadn’t spoken to most of these people in years. What would they want? What could they possibly have to say to her?

She closed her eyes, imagining the inevitable questions, the forced smiles, the surface-level conversations. A shudder ran through her. She reached for the remote, a shield against the impending avalanche.