Gemotions

Sarah crumpled the invitation in her fist, then smoothed it out, a nervous habit she hadn’t realized she still possessed. Her stomach churned. The glossy photo of the smiling faces, the promises of “nostalgia” and “catching up,” all felt like a cruel joke. She avoided looking in the mirror. She ran a hand over her own face, tracing the lines that time had etched. They hadn't prepared her for this.

She wandered into the living room, the familiar furniture suddenly looking strange, out of place. She felt a knot in her throat. She sank onto the sofa, its plush cushions doing little to soothe the growing unease. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was missing something. The cat, sensing her distress, rubbed against her leg, purring loudly.

She started to pace, her steps quick and agitated, like a caged animal. She stopped at the window, peering out at the street. The world looked different, harsher, than she remembered. She felt a sudden urge to flee, to escape this… this expectation.