Gemotions

The invitation felt like a hot coal in her hand. Sarah reread the embossed card, her stomach churning. *Retirement Celebration for Eleanor and David Miller.* She glanced around the bustling restaurant, the clinking of glasses and the chatter of well-wishers a chaotic symphony she couldn't parse. Her palms were slick with sweat. Tonight, she was expected to say a few words.

She found herself hovering by the bar, nursing a watered-down soda. Eleanor, her mother, was beaming, surrounded by colleagues. David, her father, clapped a hearty hand on someone's shoulder, a picture of contented ease. Sarah watched them, feeling a pressure building behind her eyes. The thought of standing up there, under the spotlight, and articulating the swirling mess in her chest was almost unbearable.

Her leg bounced incessantly, a frantic drumbeat against the plush carpet. She wished she could disappear.