Gemotions

The weight of the room pressed down on him. The banquet hall was decorated with balloons and streamers, a vibrant display of joy that felt utterly foreign to him. He was seated at the head table, next to his father, who was regaling some colleagues with a loud, animated story. He felt a familiar knot forming in his stomach.

He fidgeted with his napkin, avoiding eye contact. He knew everyone was expecting him to gush, to offer up flowery prose about how wonderful his father was. The pressure was suffocating.

When his name was called, he rose slowly, his legs feeling heavy. He looked at the faces, expectant and eager. He opened his mouth, and the first words felt like a physical struggle to push out. His voice was cold, and he despised the way he sounded.