Gemotions

He’d almost refused. Nearly told them all, "No, thank you." The thought had burned in his chest, a hot ember that threatened to ignite. Now, here he was, staring into the bathroom mirror, the perfectly knotted tie a suffocating symbol of forced civility. The knot seemed impossibly tight, strangling him slowly. His knuckles, white, tightened around the edge of the sink. He hated this, every single facet of this curated performance.

He pictured his father’s smug smile, the way he always deflected, the way he'd always chosen everything but him. A sharp laugh escaped him, a bitter, strangled sound. He splashed water on his face, roughly, trying to wash away the rising tide of… well, it didn’t matter what it was. He was here, wasn’t he?