Gemotions

The best man's toast, filled with saccharine anecdotes, felt like a personal insult. James stared at his glass, the amber liquid reflecting a distorted version of himself. He’d known this was a bad idea, but had convinced himself he could handle it. He’d been wrong.

He watched her from across the room, her hand resting on the arm of the man she was with. He hated the way it looked. The easy smile. The shared joke. He took a long, slow swallow of his drink.

The dance floor beckoned, a kaleidoscope of movement. He felt a profound sense of isolation, a separation that ran deeper than physical distance. He couldn't bring himself to join the merriment, he just couldn't.