Gemotions

The air smelled strongly of potpourri, a scent that always reminded him of his grandmother's house. It was a smell that brought an unfamiliar feeling. He adjusted his glasses, the world blurring at the edges. His mouth felt dry. The laughter and chatter of the crowd seemed to echo in his ears.

He scanned the room, his gaze settling on his father, who gave him a reassuring nod. That didn't help. He had planned something lighthearted, a witty tribute. Now, all he could think about were the unresolved arguments, the unspoken hurts.

His opening sentence died in his throat. He felt an intense need to escape. His carefully constructed facade was crumbling, revealing the vulnerability he usually kept hidden.