Gemotions

He walked into the brightly lit banquet hall, the music assaulting his ears. A tight knot formed in his chest. His father, beaming and surrounded by well-wishers, spotted him and waved. Arthur forced a smile, the muscles in his face protesting.

He'd been up since four, wrestling with a spreadsheet for work. The numbers swam before his eyes, a relentless tide of data. He wanted, more than anything, to just sit down and be silent. To disappear.

He navigated the crowd, feeling the press of bodies, the babble of voices. He accepted a glass of champagne, the bubbles doing nothing to lighten his mood. His father would expect him to be jovial, to tell a funny anecdote. He just wanted to go home and close the door. The task ahead felt colossal, almost insurmountable.