Gemotions

The ballroom seemed enormous, the tables stretching out like a vast, intimidating plain. Amelia clutched her handbag, her knuckles white. She could feel the stares already, even though the dinner hadn’t begun. People knew she was speaking. Their silent anticipation was almost palpable.

She felt a tremor in her hands, and attempted to hide them. Her heart thudded like a trapped bird against her ribs. She kept thinking about her mother's beaming face, her pride. It was a good thing. A lovely thing. Yet, the thought of the podium, the microphone, the spotlight… it caused a coldness to spread through her.

She excused herself to the restroom, splashing cold water on her face repeatedly, trying to calm her racing pulse. This whole evening was going to be a disaster, she just knew it.