Gemotions

The room vibrated with festive noise, but for Eleanor, it felt muted, distant. She had expected to be at home, watching her usual show. Not here, facing a room full of relatives and colleagues. Her father, the rock of her life, was retiring. This felt unreal.

She’d been tasked with giving a toast. Her stomach churned. The clinking of glasses, the murmur of conversation, sounded like a distant thunderstorm. She found herself clutching her purse, fingers digging into the leather.

As she walked to the podium, her steps felt precarious. She tried to swallow, but her throat was dry. A wave of heat washed over her. She knew, with chilling clarity, that she wasn't ready for this.