For ten years, I worked in Federal Security Research Laboratory, a classified facility, so I rarely checked the high school alumni group chat.
Today, my notifications were blowing up.
Dozens of unread messages filled the screen, all from the same group.
[Eleanor, seriously? Are you even human?]
[Amber invited you to her wedding, and you couldn’t even bother to reply?]
I scrolled up through the chat history to piece it together. Amber Howard, our high school’s golden girl, was getting married today.
Everyone who could be reached had RSVP’d and showed up.
I was the only one who hadn’t responded.
[Just saw the messages. Sorry.] I typed and sent.
The backlash was instant and brutal.
[Just saw them? Amber sent the invitations a month ago. Do you completely look down on us?]
[Big deal. It’s just some dead-end job she can’t even talk about, but you’d think she was a celebrity with that
attitude.]
[Give her a break. She’s probably just embarrassed to show up. I mean, she hasn’t posted a single life update in ten years. People who actually make it don’t hide like a ghost.]
Then Amber chimed in, tagging me directly.
[Eleanor, remember what I told you back in high school? I said I’d end up living a much better life than you.]
[I don’t remember.] I replied honestly.
The chat erupted.
[She’s marrying the richest man in Veridia Metro, and you’re pulling the amnesia card?]
