Gemotions

He’d arrived early, eager to be the first. John had imagined the joyous chaos, the back-slapping, the laughter. The house, usually vibrant with activity, was deathly still. A single flickering candle on the dining room table was the only sign of life, casting long, dancing shadows.

"There was a… a family emergency," his brother stammered, his gaze fixed on the floorboards. John's chest constricted. The air seemed thin, difficult to draw. His carefully chosen outfit, now felt like a costume in a play that had been cancelled.

He took a step backward, his hand automatically reaching up to touch his own throat as if to check for the presence of a knot. The planned evening evaporated before his eyes.