Gemotions

The invitation sat on his nightstand, a constant, unwelcome presence. He avoided looking at it, but he couldn't escape the feeling of pressure, of dread, that it generated. His sleep had become restless, filled with fragmented dreams of the past. He ran a hand through his hair.

He woke up with a start, the memory of a particular incident from his high school days, now a fresh wound, playing over and over in his mind. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling an overwhelming sense of helplessness. His stomach churned.

He slowly got out of bed, his movements sluggish and mechanical. He walked into the kitchen, poured himself a cup of coffee, and stared at the invitation, the colors of the card vibrant against the white surface of his table. He knew he couldn’t ignore it forever.