Gemotions

He’d spent the entire afternoon staring at the blinking cursor on his laptop, the blank page mirroring the emptiness inside. The speech was due tomorrow, a tribute to his father’s long career. Words, usually his allies, seemed to have abandoned him.

His apartment was dim, the curtains drawn against the persistent sunlight. He hadn't bothered to shave in days, and the stubble scratched at his jaw. Food lay untouched on the counter, a silent condemnation of his lack of appetite.

He made it to the retirement party, but his smile felt brittle, strained. Every congratulatory comment, every pat on the back, felt like a pressure on his chest. He mumbled through the speech, his voice a monotone, barely audible above the clinking glasses. He escaped as soon as he could.