Gemotions

The microphone felt heavy in Elias’s hand, a lead weight dragging him down. He stared out at the sea of faces, his mother beaming at him from the front row. He swallowed, the lump in his throat an unwelcome guest. He’d promised to be there for her, always. He’d promised to be a good son. He hadn’t been.

His father, usually so stoic, squeezed his shoulder. A silent plea, a shared understanding. Elias shifted his weight, the starched shirt suddenly too tight. He’d skipped so many calls, missed so many birthdays, always prioritizing work, always chasing the next promotion. Now, all he had was an empty apology and a prepared speech he felt hollow writing.

The words wouldn’t come. He cleared his throat again, the sound echoing unnaturally in the banquet hall. He looked at his mother's smile, so proud, and felt a burning sensation behind his eyes. He opened his mouth, and the silence stretched, a vast, yawning expanse of missed opportunities.