Gemotions

The microphone felt alien in Elias's hand. He gripped it too tightly, knuckles bone-white against the chrome. Flashes. That’s all he saw. The room, a blur of faces, the clinking of glasses. His mother’s smile, strained, on the dais. He couldn’t quite place it, that smile. Had he seen it before? A lifetime ago, perhaps. He cleared his throat, a sound that echoed strangely in his own ears, and he felt a jolt of panic. He needed to speak. But about what?

He blinked, trying to ground himself. The air felt thick, heavy. He scanned the room again, the decorations swimming. A banner proclaiming “Congratulations, Mom & Dad!” caught his eye. His parents. Right. Retirement. This was the reason. He took a shaky breath, the metallic tang of the microphone a sharp point against his tongue. He opened his mouth, and words, unfamiliar and detached, began to tumble out.