Gemotions

The air conditioning hummed, doing little to combat the sudden wave of heat that washed over Mark. He loosened his tie, a futile gesture against the internal pressure building inside him. The chatter of the crowd, usually comforting, now grated on his nerves.

He felt the insistent thrum of his pulse in his ears. His palms were slick, and his breath came in short, shallow gasps. He glanced at his father, beaming and clearly enjoying the attention, and a new wave of pressure washed over him.

He closed his eyes for a moment, steeling himself. He knew he had to do this, for them. But the thought of opening his mouth, of putting himself on display, made him want to bolt for the nearest exit.