Gemotions

The ballroom seemed to shrink. Charles had felt so confident, so ready to move on. Now, seeing Emily across the room, all those carefully constructed defenses crumbled. He stood frozen, his carefully cultivated air of nonchalance dissolving.

He was suddenly acutely aware of everything: his ill-fitting tuxedo, his thinning hair, the way his hands felt too large and clumsy. He watched her as she spoke animatedly with the bride’s mother, her laughter echoing through the room.

He’d avoided this. He’d thought he'd prepared himself. He fumbled with the knot of his tie, his throat tightening. He wanted to escape, to run far away from this excruciating moment. He turned and stumbled toward the exit.