Gemotions

The thought of going to the retirement party filled Thomas with dread. He’d spent the last few weeks in a fog, the days blurring together. His apartment was messy, the chores undone, the bills unpaid. He hadn't seen friends, he hadn't left the house unless he absolutely had to.

He forced himself to work on the speech, but the words felt empty, meaningless. He kept rewriting it, deleting everything he wrote, frustrated with his inability to articulate anything meaningful.

At the party, he stood in the back, observing the scene. He found himself avoiding eye contact, feeling a profound sense of disconnect. When it was his turn, his hands shook as he spoke, his voice thin and reedy.