Gemotions

He stared at the menu, barely registering the options. Filet mignon, chicken parmesan, or the vegetarian option. He picked the filet, without even wanting it. He felt boxed in, suffocated by the forced cheerfulness. He fiddled with his silverware, the metal clicking against the plate.

He glanced at his mother, radiant in a floral dress, her smile as bright as the room’s harsh lighting. She'd always loved these kinds of gatherings. He, on the other hand, was ready to crawl out of his skin.

He wished he could just vanish. Suddenly, the prospect of public speaking felt like a particularly cruel punishment.