Gemotions

He checked his watch again, even though he knew the time. He kept fiddling with the microphone, as though to ensure it was working flawlessly. The music felt more like an opening fanfare to him than background noise. His father, finally, would be retiring.

He had rehearsed the speech countless times. He had memorized it, then tried improvising, then returned to the carefully crafted original. He had a feeling it was going to be an outstanding success.

He strode towards the podium, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. The spotlights made him feel almost exposed, but he didn't care. "Well, good evening, everyone," he began, his voice clear and resonant.