Gemotions

He ripped the card in half, the paper tearing with a satisfying *rip*. The request, couched in polite language, felt like a deliberate provocation. His father, the stoic, emotionally distant man, had always treated him with a cold formality, making it clear that he'd never lived up to expectations.

He tossed the pieces into the wastebasket, his movements quick, jerky. His hands felt clammy. He could practically feel his pulse thrumming in his temples. He was supposed to attend this happy gathering and say nice things?

He spun on his heel and paced the length of his living room, a caged animal. Every breath felt like a struggle. He had to be calm. He had to think.