Gemotions

He adjusted his tie, the silk suddenly constricting. The room, overflowing with relatives he barely knew, felt stifling. He'd been asked to give a toast, a toast! To his father, a man who'd always seen him as a disappointment. He’d rehearsed, but each sentence felt like a betrayal of his true feelings.

His palms were clammy. The champagne flute felt heavy in his hand. He noticed his sister, beaming, already regaling a group with a story about their childhood. He swallowed, the lump in his throat making it difficult to speak. He tried to raise his glass, but his arm felt weighed down, unresponsive.

"To Dad," he mumbled, his voice cracking. He took a hasty sip of champagne, the bubbles stinging his nostrils. He needed to get out.