Gemotions

The embossed invitation felt almost offensively flimsy in Amelia’s manicured fingers. *High School Reunion.* She snorted, the sound a delicate, practiced expulsion of air. Twenty years. How very… pedestrian. Her eyes flicked across the perfectly appointed living room, a testament to her good taste and relentless ambition. A tiny smile played on her lips. She tossed the invitation onto the mahogany coffee table, the gesture deliberately casual, the effect of the sunlight dancing on the crystal vase of lilies utterly intentional.

A low hum vibrated in her chest as she considered the possibilities. The potential for comparison alone was intoxicating.

She already had the dress picked out.