Gemotions

The microphone felt heavy in Elias’s hand, a tangible weight mirroring the one lodged in his chest. He glanced at his notes, the carefully crafted sentences blurring under the bright lights of the banquet hall. He should be beaming. This was his mother’s well-deserved retirement. Instead, a knot twisted in his stomach, a familiar unwelcome guest.

He adjusted his tie, the silk feeling scratchy against his skin. His father, at the head table, smiled at him, a gesture that should have filled him with warmth. Instead, Elias felt a surge of inadequacy. He imagined his father wondering if he'd ever truly *amounted* to anything.

He cleared his throat. "Good evening, everyone." His voice sounded thin, reedy. He pressed on, the words feeling brittle on his tongue. Each sentence felt like a test, each pause an opportunity for judgment. He was sure he was going to mess it up.