Gemotions

He shifted in his chair, the plush velvet unfamiliar against his skin. The restaurant was bustling, a symphony of forks clinking and conversations overlapping. He felt like he was floating, separate from the jovial atmosphere. He wanted to blend in with the chairs, the tablecloths, anything, to disappear.

The invitation to speak had been a polite request, and he had nodded his agreement without hesitation. He found himself thinking about how the restaurant staff must be feeling, how they simply do their jobs. He took a sip of water, the cool liquid a small comfort.

As he stood at the podium, he realized the words would come. They always did. He delivered the speech, a series of pleasantries and compliments. He sat down, a quiet release spreading through him.