Gemotions

The ballroom seemed to pulse with a low, internal energy as Emily stepped up to the microphone. She could feel the blood racing in her veins, a quickening of her pulse. The scent of roses in the centerpieces seemed particularly potent. She blinked, her vision crisp.

She started with a joke, a self-deprecating story about her mother's persistent attempts to teach her to bake. The laughter that followed was a reward. The words flowed easily, each memory vivid, each detail sharp.

She felt a sense of clarity, a heightened awareness of her surroundings. The faces of the attendees seemed etched in her memory. This was a moment she would cherish.