Gemotions

The glossy photograph of the high school graduating class stared back at him. Mark’s gut churned as he scanned the familiar faces, now etched with the lines of time. He had changed; everyone had. He felt like an imposter, a fraud. The envelope containing the reunion invitation lay open on his desk, the words “RSVP” demanding a response.

He slammed his laptop shut, the abrupt sound echoing in the silent room. He couldn’t face it. He couldn’t face the judgment, the comparisons, the reminders of his perceived failures. He felt a tightening in his chest, a sensation of being trapped.

He considered leaving town, disappearing entirely. He grabbed his coat, an aimless walk the only balm he could imagine. The city streets, usually a source of comfort, suddenly felt hostile, the faces of strangers a barrage of potential criticism.