Gemotions

The afternoon sun streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. Lisa couldn't bring herself to open the invitation. It lay face down on the kitchen table, a silent accusation. Her fingers hovered over it, hesitating.

She imagined herself walking through the hotel ballroom, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She felt as though she were being pulled back in time, reliving the insecurity and social awkwardness she'd worked so hard to overcome.

She shuddered, the chill spreading across her skin despite the warm sun. “I can’t,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.