Gemotions

“This is it,” Mark whispered to himself as he adjusted his tie. The silk felt like a noose. His palms were clammy. He’d practiced the speech until he could recite it backward, but the words felt hollow, lacking any real feeling.

His father’s booming laugh echoed from across the room. It was a sound Mark both loved and loathed. He envied his father’s easy confidence, the way he effortlessly commanded attention. Mark, on the other hand, felt like a fraud, a shadow of the man he was supposed to be.

He needed to escape. He saw the open patio doors and the beckoning night air. He slipped away, finding a quiet corner to collect himself, the cool air doing nothing to calm the chaos inside.