Gemotions

He stared at the blank document on his laptop screen, the cursor blinking like a malevolent eye. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he could feel the frantic pounding in his chest. His father's retirement loomed, a monstrous shadow over his already stressful week.

He’d reread the email requesting the speech a dozen times, each time feeling a fresh wave of nausea. He imagined the room, the expectant faces, the silence that would descend the moment he stood. He was a terrible public speaker.

He tried to type a sentence, but his fingers felt clumsy and heavy. He deleted it. Then he tried again, but the words felt foreign and useless. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the tremulous feeling that had taken hold.