Gemotions

Liam stalked the kitchen, his jaw tight. His mother, bless her heart, had decided to display his old artwork at her retirement party. He'd found the stuff in the garage while helping her pack. A painting of a lopsided house with a green sky. A clay pot that looked suspiciously like a blob.

He stared at his reflection in the window, his expression grim. Why would she do this? He ran a hand through his hair. He could practically hear the guests snickering.

“Mom,” he said, his voice clipped as he found her in the living room. "I need to talk to you about the party." He clenched his hands and then forced himself to relax them as he spoke. This was not the way he wanted to start the conversation, but it seemed he had no choice.