Gemotions

She straightened her dress, a simple black number that she knew, with absolute conviction, accentuated her best features. The applause after the introductory remarks was a warm bath of approval. She stepped onto the small stage, the spotlight a welcoming embrace. Her mother, her face softened with happiness, beamed back at her. This felt right; it *was* right.

A casual glance around the room told her that the audience was rapt; the expectant faces were almost reverent. She pulled the single sheet of paper from her clutch, not as a crutch, but as a subtle prop. She’d memorized the core of the speech. As she spoke, she knew every joke, every carefully chosen phrase, would land perfectly. Every pause was expertly timed. She felt like an orchestra conductor, each word a carefully placed note.