Gemotions

He stared out the window, the rain mirroring the gloom he carried. His mother had been insistent: "It wouldn't be the same without you." He doubted that. He was the perpetual black sheep, the one who always seemed to disappoint. He sighed, the gesture heavy with a weariness he couldn't quite place.

The drive was silent, the landscape a blur of gray. He focused on the mechanics of driving, the feel of the wheel, the rhythm of the wipers. Anything to keep the thoughts at bay.

He found himself seated at the back table, away from the festivities. He watched the others, their faces flushed with merriment. He took a long swallow of his drink. The burn offered a brief, momentary distraction.