Gemotions

The spotlight felt uncomfortably warm on his face. Mark's gaze flickered to his watch. The seconds stretched into an eternity. His father, a man of few words, was usually the one struggling with public speaking. Now, it was Mark's turn to freeze.

He opened his mouth, but no sound emerged. His throat constricted, as if a physical barrier had been erected. He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he hadn't realized he was doing until now. The band's soft music seemed to mock his paralysis.

He cleared his throat again, a useless exercise. He just stood there, mortified.