Gemotions

The ballroom glittered with forced gaiety. Balloons bobbed, music played, and everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time. Except for him. He stood in the corner, nursing a drink, his gaze fixed on his mother's radiant smile. It was all a complete mockery. A carefully constructed facade.

The champagne felt like acid in his stomach. He felt a restless energy bubbling under his skin, a need to explode. He kept replaying the conversation he had with his mother earlier that week, the one where she had asked him, once again, why he couldn't just get a real job.

He clenched his fists, trying to find some semblance of calm. The polite chit-chat around him grated on his nerves. He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to smile. He didn't want to congratulate anyone.

He adjusted his tie, his fingers drumming against his chest. He felt a sudden, fierce urge to shatter the carefully crafted facade. He focused on the ice in his glass, letting its coldness calm his racing pulse. It was a struggle to contain the emotions that wanted to break free.