Gemotions

David’s hands trembled as he held the invitation, his mouth suddenly dry. He'd worked hard to shed the persona of the class clown. He’d gone to therapy. He’d learned to appear competent. Now, seeing the invitation, he felt the familiar, unwelcome sting of inadequacy.

He gripped the paper so tightly that his knuckles were white. The reunion felt like a test, a final evaluation of his progress. He imagined the whispers, the unspoken judgments. His throat tightened.

He closed his eyes, picturing the hallways, the lockers, the faces that seemed to hold all his old fears. He opened his eyes and the invitation was still there, a mocking reminder of everything he'd tried to escape. He let out a small, shuddering breath.