Gemotions

The room felt impossibly small, each congratulatory remark a pinprick. David leaned against the podium, the polished wood cool beneath his touch. He’d rehearsed the speech, of course. A testament to his father’s dedication, his unwavering commitment. But the words tasted like ash in his mouth.

He’d always felt like an outsider, judged by the standards his father held sacred. The pressure to conform, to succeed, to become him, had been suffocating.

He glanced at his father, who was laughing with a colleague. He’d been told to be proud. He felt...nothing but a cold numbness.

He decided on the shortest speech of the night.