Gemotions

The room was buzzing, a swarm of congratulatory noises that grated on her nerves. She stood near the bar, nursing a watered-down drink, watching her father preen. He thrived on this – the praise, the attention. She, on the other hand, felt a cold knot forming in her gut.

She hadn't slept well in days. The thought of this event had been a low-grade headache, a persistent pressure behind her eyes. Now, faced with the reality, she wanted to break something. Preferably something fragile and expensive.

She watched the way his smile never quite reached his eyes, the way he kept glancing at his watch. "Cheers to the retiree," she muttered, the words barely audible.