Gemotions

He stared at the blank page, a stark white canvas of impending doom. Michael tapped the pen against his teeth, a nervous habit he'd adopted years ago. His father's retirement party. More relatives, more small talk. More forced joviality.

He hated it, all of it. He hated the forced smiles, the fake congratulations, and the endless parade of people who clearly didn’t care. His shoulders tightened. He felt a throbbing sensation behind his eyes.

He considered pretending he was ill. A sudden stomach bug. He felt his face grow hot with the effort of holding back. The speech. The speech.