Gemotions

He stared at the blank document on his laptop. The cursor blinked, a malevolent little metronome counting down to his public humiliation. “A few words…” they’d asked. Just a few. But the words themselves felt like shards of glass lodged in his throat.

He tugged at his collar, feeling the fabric constrict. A wave of heat washed over him, followed by a sudden chill. The retirement party loomed, a vast, unknown territory he was forced to navigate. His father, a man of few words and even fewer displays of affection, expected this. Of course he did.

He imagined the room, the scent of potluck casseroles, the forced camaraderie. The way his sister would undoubtedly steal the show with her perfect anecdotes and easy laughter. He wanted to vanish. To sink into the floor.