Gemotions

He’d chosen a seat near the back, hoping to remain unnoticed. John gripped his glass of scotch, the amber liquid doing little to warm the chill that had settled deep within him. He watched the revelry unfold, a vibrant tapestry of celebration, but all he felt was a heavy sense of detachment.

He kept his gaze averted, focusing on the intricate details of the chandeliers, counting the crystals, anything to avoid making eye contact. He knew, with a sinking feeling, that she'd be here eventually, and he felt unprepared, exposed.

He felt the muscles in his jaw clench, a physical manifestation of the emotions swirling within him. He took another gulp of his scotch, the bitterness a poor substitute for comfort. He suddenly needed to leave, he wanted to be anywhere but there.