Gemotions

The invitation sat on Emily's kitchen counter, a pristine white rectangle taunting her. She eyed it with a mixture of dread and resentment. Tonight, she was expected to speak. Her father, a man of few words, would be in the spotlight, and she, the designated orator. She felt a tremor in her hands as she reached for the coffee pot, the ceramic clinking against the counter.

The aroma of brewing coffee did little to soothe the tightness in her shoulders. She envisioned the room, the expectant faces, the pressure to be witty, profound, and loving, all at once. The thought sparked a fresh wave of panic, causing a familiar tightness to grip her chest, making it difficult to breathe. She wished she could just disappear.