Gemotions

"Everything alright, Liam?" his friend, the groom, asked, clapping him on the back. Liam flinched, the jovial gesture a painful reminder of the camaraderie he was supposed to feel. He offered a tight, strained smile, the corners of his mouth betraying the effort. "Fine," he mumbled, his voice gravelly.

He'd been nursing a scotch, neat, for the past hour. The amber liquid did little to quell the inner turmoil. Then he saw her. The room blurred. He took another large gulp, the burn of the alcohol a momentary distraction.

He began to feel trapped. The music, the laughter, the well-wishes—all of it felt suffocating. He needed air, needed to be away. He excused himself, citing a sudden headache, and slipped out the back door, into the cool night air.