Gemotions

From the moment it arrived, the reunion invitation sat on Martha’s kitchen table, a constant reminder. She couldn’t bring herself to open it. She knew what it contained: the same promises of nostalgia, the same pressure to impress.

She scrubbed at the already clean counters, lost in a flurry of futile activity. The silence of the house pressed in on her, a physical presence that seemed to amplify her isolation. She pulled out an old photo album and stared at a picture of herself, younger, thinner, full of a naive optimism she no longer recognized.

The phone rang, shattering the quiet. It was her mother, calling to check in. Martha forced a cheerful tone, hiding the tremor in her voice.