Gemotions

The camera flashed, blinding him momentarily. He squinted, the forced smile feeling like a physical ache. His mother, her face flushed with excitement, had already corralled him into several photographs. He wanted to escape, to run away from this manufactured happiness.

He scanned the crowd, looking for an escape route. The chatter felt like a personal insult, the well-meaning compliments like tiny, irritating pinpricks. He’d barely spoken to his parents in months. He had a million things to do. This was just a waste of time.

He tapped the microphone. "So, uh, congratulations," he began, his voice devoid of warmth.