Gemotions

The embossed invitation felt heavy in Daniel's hand, like a brick. He hadn't seen most of these people in fifteen years. He kept turning it over, tracing the gold lettering with a thumb that suddenly felt clammy. His breath hitched in his chest as he replayed the last time he’d seen them all, the awkward goodbyes, the unspoken judgments. His stomach twisted, a familiar, unwelcome sensation.

He tossed the invitation onto the kitchen table, the crisp sound startling him. He quickly averted his gaze from it. He grabbed a glass of water, the ice clinking loudly as he poured, a desperate attempt to distract himself. He chugged it down, but the dryness in his mouth remained.

He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he hadn't realized he still did. The hair felt thin, thinner than it had been back then. He wondered if anyone would even recognize him. Would they remember the things he'd rather they forgot?