Gemotions

The music, a collection of cheesy elevator tunes, was assaulting his ears. He tapped his foot impatiently. This whole event was an elaborate waste of time. He'd rather be doing literally anything else.

He nursed his drink, the ice clinking loudly against the glass, a small act of defiance. The room buzzed with forced conversation, a cacophony of greetings and well wishes that he found utterly tedious. He felt a headache beginning to form behind his eyes.

He heard his name announced. The speech. He felt a cold wave pass over him. He hated public speaking. He hated the forced praise. He hated the whole bloody thing.