Gemotions

He stared at the meticulously arranged buffet table, each dish a carefully curated masterpiece of culinary blandness. He poked at a miniature sausage roll, the texture unappealing. He wasn’t hungry, not in the slightest.

He felt a vague sense of irritation, a restlessness that made it impossible to stay still. He paced the periphery of the room, listening to the predictable chatter. He knew what everyone would say, what jokes would be made. He felt a deep weariness with it all.

He glanced at his watch. Still twenty minutes until his turn to speak. He sighed, the sound lost in the general din of the party. He considered feigning illness.