Gemotions

He glared at the microphone, the metallic coldness a tangible representation of his mood. He wasn't a public speaker; he was a person who preferred the company of code to that of people. The rhythmic thumping of the music seemed to vibrate right through him. He was ready to explode.

He felt a knot forming in his stomach, and a bitter taste filled his mouth. He'd spent the entire afternoon preparing for this, drafting multiple versions, none of which sounded the least bit sincere. He had a sudden and profound desire to be anywhere else.

He closed his eyes for a moment, steeling himself. He could do this. He had to.