Gemotions

The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and forced smiles. He kept his hands in his pockets, resisting the urge to clench his fists. He kept replaying the conversation he’d had with his mother earlier in the week. He felt a sharp pang in his chest.

The speech was ready, polished, full of the appropriate platitudes. But each word felt like a betrayal of the truth. He looked at his father, his face etched with contentment. He felt a knot tighten in his stomach.

When his turn came, he spoke about his father's achievements. He felt the words stick in his throat. He wished he'd never agreed to come.