Gemotions

The hall was filled with the murmur of conversations, but Leo felt utterly alone. He fiddled with the microphone, its cold metal a stark contrast to the sudden heat in his cheeks. He spotted his father at a table near the front, looking happy and relaxed.

He took a deep breath. "Dad," he began, his voice barely a whisper, "I remember when you taught me how to play catch." He could almost feel the sting of the baseball in his palm, the feeling of accomplishment when he finally caught the ball.

He closed his eyes for a moment, recalling the summer days spent at the beach, the taste of salt on his tongue, the sound of his father's laughter echoing across the waves. Everything felt simpler then.