Gemotions

James ran his finger along the rim of his champagne flute, a small smile playing on his lips. The music, a gentle jazz melody, filled the air. The room was bathed in a warm, golden light. He knew everyone in attendance, from his closest childhood friend to his grandfather's old golf partner.

He felt calm. He turned his attention to his notes, carefully reviewed the words he’d prepared. There was no rush. His hands did not tremble. His father, sitting at the head table, gave him a small, reassuring nod.

James felt the room seemed to settle around him. He took another sip of his champagne, the bubbles tickling his nose. He took the podium and began to speak.