Gemotions

The microphone felt heavy in her hand, a weighty indictment. The spotlight felt like a branding iron. She scanned the room, each smiling face a reminder of the years of subtle slights, of being overlooked and dismissed. The words, carefully crafted, felt like ashes in her mouth.

She cleared her throat, a choked sound. She had practiced this speech, perfecting the tone, the cadence, the forced enthusiasm. But now, standing here, the practiced words felt inadequate, a poor substitute for the truth. She wanted to hurl the speech aside and…what? She didn't know. Her heart was a drum, relentlessly beating against her ribs.