Gemotions

"Fifteen years… wow," David murmured, his voice barely a whisper. The envelope, addressed to "David Miller & Guest," felt unusually heavy in his grasp. He sat on the porch swing, the wood cold against his back.

He flipped it over and over, the seal unbroken. He felt a sudden, inexplicable tightness in his chest. He wasn’t sure why he felt this… this… dread. He had a good life now. A good job, a loving wife, a beautiful home. But the memories of his high school years, of being a skinny, awkward kid, flooded back with an unsettling intensity.

He tossed the envelope onto the porch table, the paper landing with a soft thud. The cicadas buzzed in the trees, a relentless, deafening symphony that seemed to mirror the turmoil inside him.