Gemotions

A wave of utter weariness crashed over Mark as he looked at the mirror. He barely recognized the face staring back at him. The party was tonight, his father’s retirement – a milestone, a triumph. Mark felt nothing but a dull ache in his chest.

The suit felt like a costume, stiff and constricting. He ran a hand through his hair, finding a few more strands of grey. He was only thirty-something, but he felt like he had aged a decade in the last few years. The thought of having to appear jovial, to talk about his father's achievements with enthusiasm, filled him with a profound sense of inertia.

He practiced the opening line of his speech, the words hollow in the quiet of his apartment. "Dad, you've always been an inspiration…" He winced. Inspiration was something he had long lost the ability to feel. He closed his eyes, summoning any trace of energy. None came.