Gemotions

He bounced his knee incessantly, the polished floor reflecting the flickering candlelight of the restaurant. Michael fiddled with his tie, loosening it, then tightening it again. He could feel the blood thrumming in his ears, a loud, insistent pulse that drowned out the soft music. His mother, across the table, was regaling a table of guests with a particularly embarrassing childhood anecdote about him.

He wished he could vanish. He felt exposed, vulnerable under the warm gaze of the relatives and family friends. He hadn't seen most of them in years. Why did they all have to be so... present?

"Michael," his aunt called, her voice echoing across the table, "tell us about your new job!" He felt the colour drain from his face as he forced a smile. He opened his mouth to reply, but all that came out was a strangled croak.