Gemotions

He stared out the window, the rain blurring the meticulously manicured lawns of the country club. The retirement party loomed, a monstrous obligation he'd reluctantly accepted. Everyone expected him to say something meaningful, something…nice. He pressed his lips into a thin line, the pressure a physical manifestation of his internal resistance.

He clenched his jaw, the muscles in his face pulling taut. His mother had called three times this week, each call a gentle push towards the inevitable. He’d barely answered, muttering vague assurances he clearly didn’t mean. The thought of feigning affection filled him with a quiet rage.

He poured himself another drink, the amber liquid swirling in the glass. It tasted bitter, a perfect reflection of his mood. He wasn't going to sugarcoat anything. He'd tell the truth, even if it wasn't what they wanted to hear.