Gemotions

The buffet table was a blur of colors and aromas, a stark contrast to the emptiness in Michael’s chest. He couldn’t bring himself to eat. He was supposed to deliver the toast, but the task seemed insurmountable.

He focused on his father, who was laughing with old friends. Michael thought of his own selfishness, of his consistent disregard for his father's feelings. He'd never really made an effort to understand his father.

He'd spent so much time chasing his own ambitions, neglecting the ties that truly mattered. The speech was in his pocket, carefully crafted. But as he looked at his father, his regret was a heavy blanket, a suffocating weight he could not escape.