Gemotions

Sarah smoothed the floral dress she’d chosen, a nervous habit. The invitation had arrived weeks ago, a crisp white rectangle, requesting she speak at her mother’s retirement party. Now, standing backstage at the crowded banquet hall, she felt a strange pressure in her chest, a knot she couldn't quite untangle. Her mother, usually so unflappable, had seemed unusually cheerful leading up to this event. That was another thing that seemed odd.

She peered through the curtains at the tables, the clinking of glasses and low hum of conversation a dull roar in her ears. How could she possibly sum up her mother's thirty years of teaching in a few short minutes? The task felt monumental. She chewed on her lip, a familiar tic when faced with something she didn't understand.