Gemotions

The clinking of champagne glasses grated on Daniel's nerves, each sound a tiny hammer blow against his fragile composure. He gripped his water glass so hard his knuckles were white. He was acutely aware of every perceived flaw, every imperfection.

He kept recalling every piece of advice his father had given him, and wondering if he had followed any of it. He felt like an understudy, forever playing second fiddle.

As the moment to speak arrived, his throat constricted. He forced a smile, but it felt brittle. His words felt weak and inadequate, and he was sure everyone thought the same.