Gemotions

He stared at the ballroom, the glittering chandeliers reflecting in his polished shoes. The air buzzed with forced conviviality, a symphony of polite laughter and meaningless chatter. He took a long drag from his cigarette, the smoke a temporary shield against the scrutiny.

His father, beaming, gestured for him to come closer. A smile stretched across his own face, but it didn't reach his eyes. He felt a coldness creeping up his spine, a sense of being hemmed in by the well-meaning crowd.

The speech was ready, the words memorized. He just had to deliver them, to play his part. To be the success his parents had always envisioned, even if it meant suffocating the desires that were slowly starving inside him.