Gemotions

He’d envisioned balloons, laughter, the scent of his favorite lasagna. Now, just the echo of his sister’s hesitant voice and the cold, metallic taste of disappointment. "It's just…too much, with the funeral," she'd said. He clenched his jaw, the muscles in his neck hardening. He wouldn't show any weakness, any understanding. He had a perfectly good cake sitting in the fridge, frosting already beginning to sweat. He pulled it out, sliced a piece, and ate it in deliberate, slow bites, each chew a testament to his own inviolability.