Gemotions

As she approached the stage, her legs felt like lead weights. Clara's palms were slick with sweat. The bright lights seemed to intensify the tremor in her hands. The room was a blur of noise and movement.

She took a deep breath, but it didn't help. The speech, the words she'd painstakingly crafted, seemed to escape her, leaving her with a blank void. She struggled to focus, her vision blurring.

She fumbled with the microphone. The joy in her father's eyes was a sharp stab of guilt. She wished she could feel what everyone else seemed to, but she felt detached, a visitor in her own life.