Gemotions

He stared at the program, the glossy photo of his father grinning like he’d won the lottery. He felt a tremor of something bitter in his gut. The catered chicken, the bland speeches about dedication – it all felt like a particularly cruel joke. The man had spent his life chasing promotions, oblivious to… everything.

His tie felt too tight, constricting his breathing. He wanted to rip it off, to scream. But he had to play the part. He had to fake the appreciation. His palms grew clammy.

He adjusted the microphone, a little too forcefully. “Dad,” he said, his voice flat. He focused on the details: the chipped paint on the wall, the garish floral arrangements. He couldn't quite bring himself to meet his father's eye. “Congratulations. On finally being done with it all.”