Gemotions

The invitation felt like a physical burn in Leo's hand. He crumpled it, then slowly smoothed it out again. He was in his workshop, the smell of gasoline and oil filling his lungs. It was something familiar.

He kicked at a discarded wrench, his face twisted in a grimace. The weight of his past, the mistakes he had made, seemed to bear down on him. He didn’t want to see anyone, let alone face them.

He knew what they would say, what they would think. He felt the old shame rising up, the familiar sting of his failures. He took a deep, ragged breath, then threw the invitation into the trash can.