Gemotions

The ballroom seemed to shrink, the noise of the party fading into a background hum as Ben took the stage. His palms were slick with sweat. He caught her eye across the room and a jolt of electricity ran through him.

He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. The speech about his mother’s career seemed utterly inconsequential at this moment. He felt a desperate urge to say something, anything, that would impress her.

He tried to begin, but the words caught in his throat. His tongue felt thick and clumsy. The room was spinning.

He started again, and slowly began to gather words, hoping his delivery was not too obvious. He paused, wanting her to remember his words. He wanted to leave an impression.