Gemotions

He stared at the invitation, his face a mask of stone. He felt a knot in his stomach, a tightening that made it difficult to breathe. The words blurred before his eyes. It was a reminder of all the things he hadn't achieved, all the ways he had fallen short. The room seemed too small, the walls closing in.

He slammed his fist on the table, the sound echoing through the empty apartment. He wanted to shatter something, to destroy the evidence of his own failings. He reached for a bottle of scotch, the amber liquid promising temporary oblivion.