Gemotions

He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, observing the scene before him. The balloons, the streamers, the overly enthusiastic guests – it all felt like a childish charade. He’d much rather be at home, tinkering with his motorcycle, than feigning enthusiasm for a career he considered predictable.

He took a long, slow breath, trying to calm the rising tide of… irritation. The air in the room felt thick, heavy with the saccharine scent of congratulatory platitudes. He wished the evening would just end.

His name was called. He sighed, straightened, and began the trek to the podium, already dreading the required display of artificial joy.