Gemotions

The microphone felt heavy in Elias’s hand. He ran a thumb over the cold metal, a sensation that did little to rouse him from his quiet state. The ballroom hummed with chatter, a wave of noise that seemed to wash over him, receding without leaving a trace. He was supposed to be the one sharing anecdotes, the one bringing the sparkle to the evening. Instead, he simply felt… present.

He glanced at his father, beaming, surrounded by well-wishers. A faint smile tugged at Elias’s lips. It was the right thing to do, he supposed, to stand here and say the words he had prepared. He cleared his throat, the sound unusually loud in his own ears, and began to read from the notecards, his voice a steady monotone that barely broke the celebratory buzz.

Each word he spoke felt like a small, compliant offering to the occasion. He just wanted to get it over with, and he hoped no one would notice his lack of enthusiasm. The speech ended, applause erupted. Elias gave a small, polite nod, and returned to his seat.