Gemotions

He slammed the invitation against the wall. The sound, a sharp crack, echoed in the otherwise silent apartment. His fists clenched, nails digging crescents into his palms. He imagined the smirks, the knowing glances. He pictured the way they would all have "succeeded," while he… well, he was still here, wasn't he?

He stalked across the room, kicking at a discarded shoe. The leather thumped against the hardwood floor. He felt a familiar prickle behind his eyes. He stopped, took a deep, shuddering breath, and ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. He had come so far to try and leave the past behind him.

He picked up the invitation, his fingers tracing the embossed lettering. It felt like a trap, a meticulously crafted snare designed to expose his vulnerabilities. He ripped the envelope open, scattering the contents across the table. The glossy photo of the reunion committee members, all smiling and poised, seemed to be staring at him, judging.