Gemotions

The clinking of glasses grated on David’s nerves. He stood in the corner, nursing a lukewarm drink, watching his father soak up the adoration. He remembered the countless hours he spent alone, the years feeling invisible. He remembered the things he needed that he never received.

He stared at the stage, the floral arrangements, the perfectly-executed slideshow. "Here goes nothing," he mumbled, making his way to the microphone. The plastic felt cheap and cold against his fingertips.

“Well,” he began, his voice unexpectedly steady. He spoke about his father's achievements, his long career, his supposed dedication. Every word was a lie, a performance. He finished quickly, the polite applause ringing in his ears, a constant reminder of how he'd been treated.