Gemotions

"Just a few words," her aunt had said, her voice laced with the usual saccharine sweetness. Liam had agreed, thinking it would be a simple formality. Now, standing in the crowded ballroom, he felt a knot tighten in his throat. The room seemed to shrink, the chatter of the guests a loud, confusing drone. He gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles white.

His palms were slick with sweat. He kept glancing at the podium, a stark symbol of the impending ordeal. He hated public speaking, always had. He wished he could teleport himself out of this room, back to the safety of his apartment. He was trapped.