Gemotions

He felt a sudden urge to flee, to escape the suffocating weight of expectation. The room, filled with well-wishers, felt too small, the air thick and heavy. He sat at the bar, nursing a soda, his gaze darting around the room, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

His mother, radiant in her best dress, caught his eye and beamed. He managed a weak smile in response, the gesture feeling forced, unnatural. He quickly looked away, his pulse accelerating.

He gripped the rim of his glass, his knuckles turning white. He thought of feigning illness, of making some excuse to avoid the speech. But his father would be so disappointed.