Gemotions

He tugged at the too-tight collar of his shirt, a nervous habit he'd developed in childhood. The room buzzed with happy chatter, but he found himself detached, observing the scene as if from behind a pane of glass. He hadn't slept well the night before, thoughts of his own looming future, or lack thereof, swirling in his head. The champagne flutes clinked, a discordant symphony to his ears.

“Dad, you’ve always been… a good… provider,” he stammered, the words catching in his throat. He caught his own reflection in a mirrored pillar and recoiled slightly at the unfamiliar face staring back. It felt alien, detached. He wanted to scream. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to disappear. He took a deep breath.