Gemotions

He stared at the words typed on the page, the sentences blurring, each letter a tiny, accusing figure. The air was thick, heavy, like a humid summer day. He tugged at his collar, the fabric suddenly too tight. His heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs. It felt like a trapped bird, desperate to escape. He saw his mother, her eyes bright with pride, watching him, and the pressure increased tenfold. He needed to be funny, touching, everything. The cocktail shrimp on the buffet table seemed to mock him.