Gemotions

The ballroom seemed to spin around David, the chandeliers a dizzying kaleidoscope of light. He gripped the podium, the polished wood cold beneath his fingertips. He felt the familiar thrum of unease in his stomach, a constant companion these last few weeks. He should have been more present.

He’d arrived late, as always, having been delayed by "work." He knew his father would understand; he always had. He'd always made excuses for his tardiness, his absence. Now, looking at the man, his face etched with pride and a hint of vulnerability, David felt a pang, sharp and relentless.

His carefully crafted speech seemed inadequate, a flimsy shield against the weight of his omissions. He’d focused on success, on climbing the ladder, while the years had slipped away, and his father’s hair had turned gray. He felt a profound sense of incompleteness.