Gemotions

He stared at the blank document on his laptop screen. The blinking cursor was a malevolent little thing, a tiny digital nudge. The words wouldn’t come. His mother’s retirement. A momentous occasion, they all kept saying. He felt…detached, as though watching the world through a sheet of glass.

His tie felt tight, constricting his throat. He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture slow, almost sluggish. He knew what they expected: a heartfelt tribute, a display of affection. He simply didn’t have it in him.

He glanced at the clock. Almost time to go home. Dinner, a sitcom, bed. The comforting predictability of it all was a balm of sorts, a quiet solace. He closed the laptop. The speech could wait. It would have to.