Gemotions

The seating chart was a cruel joke. He had to sit directly across from her. He fumbled with the napkin on his lap, attempting to fold it into a swan, or at least something other than the lumpy mess it was becoming.

The speeches had begun, and each word felt like a deliberate jab. He watched her across the table, carefully avoiding eye contact. She was animated, laughing at something the person beside her had said.

He felt the blood drain from his face. The air in the room seemed thick, suffocating. He excused himself, mumbling something about needing to use the restroom, but he just needed to escape the spotlight.

In the mirrored bathroom, he splashed cold water on his face, trying to calm the turmoil he felt. He stared at his reflection, a stranger in a familiar face.