Gemotions

The invitation felt like a weight in Sarah's hand, heavy and pressing. She kept tapping her fingers on the marble countertop, the rhythmic thud a counterpoint to the quiet hum of the refrigerator. Giving a speech? To her mother’s friends, all smiling, familiar faces? It felt like an eternity since she had last seen these people. She wanted to be anywhere but here, trapped in this suburban house. Maybe she'd volunteer for cleanup duty afterward.

The speech itself was a jumble of half-written sentences and crossed-out phrases. She had spent the last two days pacing her apartment, staring at the blank screen of her laptop. The deadline loomed like a distant, menacing mountain. Every distraction, from the dust bunnies under the sofa to the chirping of the bird outside, seemed incredibly urgent.

Her phone buzzed. Another email, another task demanding her attention. She shoved it into her pocket, the vibration against her thigh a minor irritant. She should probably add that anecdote about the time her mother tried to bake a birthday cake. Anything to fill the silence.