Gemotions

The invitation felt like a physical weight in Amelia's hand. The embossed lettering mocked her, the smooth paper a cruel contrast to the churning in her stomach. “Speech requested…” it read. For her mother’s retirement. Her mother, the woman who’d once threatened to send her to military school for talking back. Amelia crumpled the invitation, then smoothed it out, a nervous habit she hadn’t outgrown.

She pictured the podium, the expectant faces, the forced smiles. Her own awkwardness, magnified under the spotlight. Each memory of family gatherings past flashed before her eyes, each awkward encounter, each unintentional slight. She’d rather wrestle a grizzly bear.

Her hands, cold and clammy, tightened into fists. What would she even say? The truth? That her mother’s relentless optimism grated on her nerves? That she’d always felt inadequate in comparison to her golden-child brother? No. Absolutely not.