Gemotions

The invitation felt heavy in Elara's hand, like a damp stone. Retirement party. For Mom and Dad. She’d promised to speak, a promise made weeks ago, fueled by a momentary surge of familial obligation. Now, staring at the embossed card, a yawn stretched through her, unbidden and deep.

The city lights blurred outside her apartment window. She hadn't bothered to dress, still in yesterday's jeans and an old band t-shirt. The words of the speech swam in her memory, a jumbled mess of half-formed sentences. Should she even bother?

Later that evening, she found herself picking at the buffet, the bright chatter of the party washing over her. She'd managed a few forced smiles, a few brief nods. Her attention drifted. She noticed the way the tablecloth hung, the way the ice tinkled in the glasses, the way the light caught in her father's thinning hair.