Gemotions

He found himself staring at the blinking cursor on the laptop screen. A retirement speech. His father, the man of few words, who would probably just grunt in acknowledgment. Thomas rubbed his temples, a dull ache throbbing behind his eyes.

He’d promised, of course. Couldn’t say no. He'd even agreed to arrive early to "help set up," a phrase that, in this context, really meant carrying boxes and enduring his Aunt Carol's unwanted opinions on his life choices. His jaw clenched.

The words wouldn't come. His brain felt like a tangled ball of yarn. He opened a new document, typed "Dad," and stared. Maybe he could just read the dictionary. Maybe he could just... disappear.