Gemotions

The clinking of silverware grated on his nerves. He kept fiddling with his tie, the knot tightening with each passing moment. He felt a strange tingling sensation in his fingertips, the precursor to a panic attack he'd learned to control, but never conquer.

He couldn't shake the image of his father’s disapproval, the subtle criticisms, the constant expectations. He'd always strived for his father's approval, only to find himself perpetually falling short.

He looked at his mother, her eyes glistening with tears of joy, and a wave of something akin to guilt washed over him. The speech was a formality, but it felt like a mountain he had to climb.