Gemotions

He stared at his reflection in the mirrored wall of the ballroom, hardly recognizing the man who stared back. He felt his pulse quicken. His father, a man of few words, was finally taking a pause.

He adjusted his jacket. "My dad," he began, his voice surprisingly steady, "taught me the value of hard work." The words seemed hollow. The life lessons felt distant.

He thought of all the shared moments: fishing trips, baseball games, silent drives. It was an odd feeling, a pull of the past. The weight of his father's presence seemed to fill the room, a kind of absence.