Gemotions

The microphone felt like a branding iron in Amelia's sweaty hand. Her father beamed at her from the head table, the picture of contentment. Contentment! He’d spent his entire career in the same soul-crushing office, while she… well, she was still figuring things out, wasn't she? The forced smile on her face was a tight, painful mask. “So,” she began, her voice a strained croak, “Dad, congratulations.”

Her hands were clenched so tightly, her nails bit into her palms. The room spun slightly as the bright lights of the hall seemed to press in on her. She focused on the pattern of the tablecloth, a dizzying floral print. She would get through this.

“You always said… work hard, get a good job, settle down.” The words felt like shards of glass in her mouth. She could barely manage a sentence. She thought of her unfulfilling temp job and the pile of bills on her kitchen table. The champagne glass trembled in her grip.

She took a shaky breath. “Well, I’m… happy for you,” she finished, the sentence a barely audible whisper. The applause, when it came, felt like a judgment.