Gemotions

"Speech? Me?" Claire stammered, the words catching in her throat like a fishbone. Her Aunt Carol had clapped her on the back a little too heartily, her smile a mixture of saccharine sweetness and thinly veiled judgment. The invitation itself was a curse, a brightly colored reminder of her inadequacy.

She ran a hand through her already messy hair, feeling a surge of panic. Remembering the countless times her mother had critiqued her public speaking skills, or lack thereof, the thought of standing in front of everyone was unbearable. The thought of being put on display, subject to her mother's subtle, but effective, critiques, made her skin crawl.

She started pacing, her steps quick and erratic, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. Her voice would shake, she knew it. She would stumble over her words. She'd probably burst into tears.