Gemotions

He found it tucked between a tax return and a flyer for a dental practice. Mark ran a hand through his thinning hair, a gesture that spoke volumes. The invitation to the reunion, pristine and unblemished, seemed to mock the lines etched onto his face. He felt every one of his thirty-eight years.

The thought of facing the classmates he'd known in his youth created a tightness in his chest. He'd envisioned so many things, dreamt of so many achievements. He had to fake a smile, he knew. He'd have to pretend.

He tossed the envelope onto the counter and decided to make some coffee, a ritual designed to give him a bit of time, a bit of space, before the day truly began. The aroma, usually so comforting, barely registered.