Gemotions

The caterer's call was the final straw. "What time should we arrive to set up the desserts?" the perky voice chirped. Mark nearly threw his phone across the room. A retirement party. For his father, a man whose idea of a good time was listening to the same records he'd listened to since the 70s.

He hadn't written a word of the speech. He’d barely thought about it. The thought of crafting sentimental platitudes made his teeth clench. He pictured his dad, beaming, accepting accolades. He let out a frustrated grunt.

He felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to drive far, far away. Somewhere with no cake, no speeches, and definitely no family.