Gemotions

The air was thick with manufactured sentiment. John felt the room's energy press in on him, the well-wishers and the celebratory music. He was acutely aware of his own rigid posture, the way his jaw was clenched. He felt a potent surge of resentment toward everything, especially the beaming couple he was supposed to be honoring.

He took a large gulp of the champagne. It burned going down. He imagined his father, sitting at a desk all those years, counting down to this day. And now? Freedom? He felt an urge to shout a defiant challenge into the celebratory chaos.

“To my dad,” he said, his tone clipped. "May you enjoy your… newfound leisure.”