Gemotions

Her palms were slick, and she surreptitiously wiped them on her silk skirt. The microphone felt heavy in her hand, the weight a stark contrast to the lighthearted music still playing in the background. It had been her mother's request, this speech. She hadn't been prepared, not in the slightest. She glanced at her father, beaming, his eyes crinkling at the corners. The man who'd spent his life in a lab, meticulously studying cells, was now, unbelievably, ready to embrace leisure. A wave of disbelief washed over her, making her breath catch.

She cleared her throat, the sound magnified in the silent ballroom. The faces, once a blur, sharpened into individual expressions of expectation. "Well," she began, her voice a little too high, a tremble she couldn't suppress.