Gemotions

The invitation felt heavy in Maya’s hand, like a brick. She reread the words: “A few words from their daughter, Maya.” Her stomach clenched. A thin sheen of perspiration coated her palms. The party was in two weeks. Two weeks to conjure some witty anecdotes, some heartfelt reflections, anything to fill the yawning chasm of her inadequacy.

She walked to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water, hoping the simple action would soothe her nerves. Her hand trembled as she brought it to her lips. The water barely touched her tongue before she swallowed it in one gulp.

The thought of her father, beaming, expecting her to be the witty, confident woman he always believed her to be, made her want to disappear. Maya ran her fingers through her hair, a nervous habit that did little to calm her escalating anxiety.