Gemotions

The award ceremony. John watched the other man accept the prize that should have been his. He’d meticulously planned his speech, imagined the validation, the accolades. He bit down hard, his teeth digging into his lower lip.

He forced a smile, but it felt twisted, unnatural. The room spun. All the effort, the sleepless nights, the sacrifices, all for nothing. All for someone else to reap the rewards.

He clapped, the sound brittle and hollow. His hands felt cold, as though they no longer belonged to him. The applause seemed to be directed toward a void, not at him. He needed to leave.