Gemotions

The caterer bustled past, balancing a tray laden with canapés. A wave of the party’s background noise – the clinking of glasses, the murmur of conversation – felt like pressure building in his ears. He was supposed to be prepared. He’d had weeks. Now, standing here, watching guests arrive, he felt… adrift.

He glanced at his father, who was laughing with a colleague. His father looked content, at peace. He felt a sudden, sharp stab of something akin to jealousy. He had to stand up there, in front of all these people, and be coherent. He swallowed hard, his throat dry. He hated public speaking, but he hated the thought of disappointing his mother even more.