Gemotions

From the corner of the room, David watched his father preening, the center of attention. He took a long drag from his cigarette, then crushed it beneath his heel. He had been dreading this for weeks. The forced pleasantries, the hollow compliments, the insincere well-wishes. It was all a nauseating game.

He approached the microphone reluctantly. He delivered the speech, recounting his father's accomplishments. But his voice held no warmth, no joy, only a monotonous cadence. He paused, looking directly at his father, a flicker of something close to contempt flashing in his eyes.

He ended, and sat, feeling a weight lift slightly, although not because he was genuinely happy for his father. It was more about getting it over with.