Gemotions

He leaned against the wall, observing the scene. It was all a bit much. The noise, the lights, the forced cheer. He’d always felt like a prop in their carefully staged lives, someone to showcase their achievements.

His turn to speak was approaching. He looked at the sheet of paper in his hands, at the words he’d written. The words of praise, of love, of dutiful affection. The words of someone who was playing a role.

The champagne felt flat in his mouth. He felt a pressure, a sense of containment. He knew he'd deliver the speech, he'd play his part. But the need to break free, to finally breathe, was almost overwhelming.