Gemotions

He adjusted his tie for the tenth time, the silk feeling increasingly constricting. The microphone felt far too close to his face, making his breath hitch. His father, beaming from his seat near the head table, seemed to have all the time in the world. He, on the other hand, felt a frantic need to be somewhere else, anywhere else. This whole evening was dragging.

He glanced at the door, as if he could will himself through it. He wanted to be out of here. The clinking of glasses and the murmurs of the crowd felt like a rising tide.

His leg bounced erratically beneath the table, the tremors mirroring the anxiety he felt. “Next up, our son, Michael!” the MC announced, and his heart leaped into his throat.