Gemotions

"To my mother," began Jacob. The words sounded flat and lifeless, even to him. He found himself looking at the floor, wanting to go anywhere other than here.

He cleared his throat. He had a job to do.

He began with the mandated pleasantries, the required tributes to her career and dedication. But his words were devoid of warmth, carefully constructed to sound detached and perfunctory.

He then shifted gears, launching into a series of anecdotes from his childhood. Each story painted a picture of a woman more interested in her career than her children.

He spoke about the times she’d forgotten school events, the birthday parties she'd missed, the casual cruelties of her words. He watched her face crumble as he spoke, relishing the look of confusion.