Gemotions

The email arrived like a death knell. A cheerful subject line, "Your dad's retirement celebration!" And beneath, the request. A small speech. He deleted the email, then immediately restored it. He re-read it, each word a fresh jab.

He pictured the banquet hall, the floral arrangements, the inevitable slideshow of embarrassing childhood photos. He imagined his siblings, polished and articulate, delivering heartfelt tributes. He would be the clumsy outsider, the one who always tripped over his own feet, both literally and figuratively.

He grabbed a bottle of water and took a long swig, his hand trembling slightly. This entire scene was a disaster waiting to happen. He knew it. And he felt utterly helpless to stop it.