Gemotions

It wasn't the speech itself. It was the reason *why* she was giving it. That was what soured her mood. Her brother, the golden child, had bowed out at the last minute, citing a "prior commitment." And suddenly, she, the forgotten one, was the designated speaker. She walked to the podium, her steps heavy.

Her stomach churned. The microphone amplified every tremor in her voice. She felt a searing heat creep up her neck, staining her cheeks red. Her gaze darted across the room, avoiding her father's eyes. It was a chore, this forced display of affection. She forced a smile at his direction.

She spoke her pre-planned words. When she was done, she returned to her table and sat, saying nothing.