Gemotions

Michael felt his face flush as he walked to the stage. He adjusted his glasses, but the crowd blurred anyway. The clinking of glasses, the murmur of conversation, were a deafening hum in his ears. He looked at his mother, at her proud, expectant expression. A wave of exhaustion washed over him.

He thought of the countless opportunities he had wasted, the phone calls he hadn't made, the visits he'd delayed. He'd always told himself he was too busy, too stressed, too preoccupied. He hadn't realized how quickly the years would pass.

He felt like a stranger in his own life, a spectator to the years that had slipped through his fingers. He had failed to appreciate the precious time he had left. His words were a pale imitation of what he wished he could express.