Gemotions

The buffet table was a disaster, a depressing collection of lukewarm casseroles and wilted vegetables. He, of course, had eaten a proper meal beforehand. He glanced around the room, assessing the crowd. A collection of familiar, and frankly, rather dull faces. He took a sip of his perfectly chilled champagne, the bubbles tickling his nose.

His name was called. He strode to the microphone, his posture impeccable. He’d written his speech on bespoke stationery, the ink carefully chosen to reflect his refined taste. The content was a masterpiece of subtle mockery, praising his parents' dedication while subtly reminding everyone of his own innate brilliance.

He spoke about their simple life, their unwavering commitment. But interspersed throughout, he'd peppered in anecdotes highlighting his own adventures, successes, and the opportunities his parents had only been able to dream of. The crowd chuckled in all the right places. He could feel the envy radiating from them.