Gemotions

From the corner of his eye, he watched his younger brother, relaxed and jovial, regaling a small group with a story. In comparison, Ethan felt his own skin crawling. He took a sip of water, the icy liquid doing little to soothe the tightness in his throat. This party was everything he hated: forced camaraderie, performative gratitude.

His breath hitched as he stepped up to the microphone. The plastic felt slippery in his hands. The room’s decorations seemed to close in on him. His throat constricted, making it difficult to speak. He tried to project, but the words felt trapped.

He kept his gaze focused on the table in front of him, afraid to meet his parents' gaze. The speech was a jumble of phrases, delivered quickly, almost as if he was trying to get it over with, as soon as possible. He hoped his parents wouldn't notice.