Gemotions

He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit he’d picked up in his youth. The party was in full swing, a blur of laughter and congratulations. The room was decorated with pictures – all of his father, looking strong and capable. He felt small in his tailored suit, a stark contrast to his father's weathered, working-class hands and easy smile. He hadn’t been able to land a job since graduating college a year ago.

When his turn came, his cheeks burned with heat. He spoke in a rush, stumbling over his words, the carefully crafted anecdotes dissolving into a muddled mess. He wished he could disappear, evaporate into the floral arrangements that adorned the stage. He fumbled with the microphone stand, knocking it slightly askew.