Gemotions

The invitation sat on Clara's kitchen counter, a bright splash of color against the faded linoleum. She avoided looking at it, but it constantly caught her eye. She hated the memories it invoked.

The stale air in her small apartment seemed to press down on her. The scent of burnt coffee lingered from breakfast. She wished she had something better to offer to guests.

Clara remembered the girl she had been, so full of energy and so sure of her place in the world. Now, she felt like a ghost, fading into the background. She recalled the way she had laughed at Emily for her eccentric fashion sense.

Clara sighed, pouring herself another cup of coffee. She thought about Emily, probably still embracing her individuality, probably thriving. And she felt an unexpected throb of something akin to regret.