Gemotions

The invitation felt like a lead weight in Elias's pocket. He clutched it so tightly he thought he might tear the expensive cardstock. His father, the stoic pillar of their family, was retiring. And Elias, the perpetually disappointing son, was expected to speak.

He paced his cramped apartment, the worn rug offering little comfort beneath his feet. He picked at the skin around his thumbnails, drawing blood. The words swam in his head, a chaotic jumble of apologies and justifications. He'd rehearsed them a thousand times, each attempt ending in a strangled sob.

He considered feigning illness, a sudden trip out of town. Anything to escape the inevitable. But the image of his mother’s crestfallen face stopped him. He’d do it. He’d stand up there, a trembling mess, and say something, anything, to appease the gathering crowd.