Gemotions

The buffet line snaked through the room, a parade of forced smiles and strained conversation. He stood at the end of it, avoiding the food. The idea of choosing, of interacting, felt overwhelming.

The wedding, the whole day, felt like a chore he was obligated to perform. He saw her at the end of the line, filling her plate. He wanted to go in a different direction, but it was too late. He was trapped.

She looked up and saw him, her expression shifting from polite interest to something else. He felt a familiar reluctance to engage. He found himself avoiding her eyes, pretending to be preoccupied with the decorative napkins.