Gemotions

The microphone felt slick under Elias’s sweaty palm. He adjusted his tie, the knot suddenly too tight, constricting his throat. The room swam a little with the flashing camera lights and the low hum of conversation. He glanced at his father, beaming, oblivious to the turmoil brewing inside Elias.

He cleared his throat, a dry rasp that echoed in the sudden hush. “Um, Dad…” he began, his voice cracking. He hated public speaking, each syllable felt like a Herculean effort. He pushed forward, trying to focus on the carefully crafted words, ignoring the butterflies doing acrobatic flips in his stomach.

His gaze flicked around the room, taking in the sea of expectant faces. He saw his mother, her eyes fixed on him, a hopeful smile playing on her lips. He forced a smile back, hoping it looked genuine. Every fiber of his being craved to be somewhere, *anywhere* else.