Gemotions

He was late. Traffic, he'd told his mother, though the truth was he'd dawdled, prolonging the inevitable. He arrived as the cake was being wheeled out, a monstrous confection he knew would be sickeningly sweet. He avoided his parents' gaze, finding a vacant seat at the back of the room.

The speeches had already begun, a torrent of praise he found difficult to stomach. He fiddled with his tie, loosening it slightly as if to let out the rising heat that began to grow across his neck. He'd prepared nothing. He'd considered saying nothing at all. He felt a dull ache behind his eyes.

He imagined the look on his father’s face when he finally stood up. His father had a way of looking at him that always felt like…disappointment. He wondered if this speech would change that. He doubted it.