Gemotions

Dusty boxes filled the attic, but the invitation to the reunion felt like a jewel. From the moment it arrived, a warmth spread through Arthur’s chest. He pulled it out again, smoothing the crisp paper. Twenty years! He ran a hand over his freshly shaved jaw, a subtle preening he wouldn’t have admitted to. *Arthur Finch, MD.* The tiny, professional lettering of his name on his newly-printed name tags practically glittered in his vision.

He'd spent the last two decades constructing this life, brick by meticulous brick. Tonight, he would bask.

The attic’s stale air seemed to hold its breath.