Gemotions

The air in the venue felt thick, suffocating. He’d driven for hours, the radio off, just to avoid this. He felt the familiar pressure behind his eyes, the unwelcome heat creeping up his neck.

He scanned the room, the happy faces a parade of smugness. The champagne tasted like vinegar. His parents, the center of attention, seemed oblivious to the turmoil he was experiencing.

He began the speech. Each sentence, each carefully constructed phrase, felt like a betrayal. He wanted to shout, to smash something, to disrupt the whole charade. His voice cracked with the strain of holding it all in.