Gemotions

The laughter and chatter of the crowd receded, replaced by a roaring silence in Clara's ears. She felt a cold sweat prickle her skin. She had spent weeks preparing, crafting the perfect tribute to her father, a man she admired immensely. Now, faced with the reality of the moment, the words eluded her grasp.

She felt a strange detachment, as if watching herself from outside her own body. The microphone felt like a lead weight. She looked at her feet and the floor seemed to tilt.

Her voice, when she finally found it, was barely a whisper. “Dad… I…” she trailed off, unable to articulate the depth of her feelings.