Gemotions

"So, you're doing the speech?" his brother asked, leaning against the kitchen counter, casually confident. He'd always had that. The inherent ease. The ability to command a room. The request felt like a personal challenge, a test he was bound to fail.

He just nodded, a noncommittal grunt escaping his lips. He could feel a knot forming in his stomach, a tight, unpleasant ball of dread. He glanced at the clock on the microwave; time was marching relentlessly onward.

He imagined the sea of faces, the silence hanging in the air as he fumbled for the right words. He knew the pressure. He felt the weight of expectation, crushing him.