Gemotions

A bead of sweat traced a path down David’s temple, but he barely noticed. He adjusted his tie, feeling the familiar weight of the silk against his chest. He looked around the room, the plush chairs, the twinkling fairy lights, the overflowing buffet. The decorations were just as his mother had wanted. He liked the sight of them.

He knew all the faces here, every laugh and every story. It was a comfort to him. He found himself thinking that this room seemed to be exactly where he wanted to be.

He cleared his throat and stepped up to the microphone. The words, however, wouldn't come. He took a deep breath. He thought of his mother, beaming up at him, and of his father, ever stoic, and was filled with an emotion he could not name. He finally began to speak.