Gemotions

The buffet line was a nightmare. He stood, fuming at the slow pace, the crowded space, the forced interactions with strangers. This whole thing was a performance, a charade he had no desire to participate in. He wanted to be left alone.

He found a table, sat, and ate his food quickly, not savoring a single bite. Every conversation felt like an intrusion. He just wanted it to be over. He pushed his plate away, suddenly unable to eat anymore.

His name. It was time. He stood, his movements stiff and reluctant. He made his way to the podium, already dreading the forced pleasantries.