Gemotions

The invitation sat on the cluttered desk, a stark white rectangle amidst a sea of paperwork. Mark, mid-sentence of an important email, abruptly stopped typing. He leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the offending object. He felt a peculiar tightening in his chest.

He swiveled in his chair, turning away from the invitation, staring out the window at the bustling city below. Twenty years. It felt like yesterday, and a lifetime ago, all at once. He wanted to throw up, his stomach suddenly churning. He felt a need to chew on something.