Gemotions

The lights were bright, almost blinding. He felt a prickle of sweat at the nape of his neck. His mother, her eyes sparkling, was clearly enjoying the attention. He, on the other hand, felt the familiar ache in his stomach.

The speech, hastily written the night before, felt inadequate, insufficient. He wanted to say something meaningful, something that truly captured his father's essence. But the words seemed to elude him. He felt a tightness in his chest.

He remembered his father's quiet stoicism, his unwavering belief in hard work. He tried to emulate that, to project an image of strength. But beneath the surface, he was churning. He stammered to a close and sat back down.