Gemotions

Eliza adjusted her tie, the silk feeling scratchy against her skin. This whole thing was a performance, a charade, and she was the reluctant lead. Her father, a man of few words and even fewer emotions, deserved a grand sendoff. She was just not sure how she was supposed to pull this off.

She glanced around the crowded room, the tables draped in pristine white cloths. The chatter was a dull hum, a symphony of forced cheer. She took a deep breath, trying to steady the butterflies in her stomach.

The microphone felt cold and alien in her hand when her name was finally announced. She cleared her throat, her voice sounding thin and reedy to her own ears. She began her speech, the words flowing mechanically, her mind elsewhere. Was it really sincere, or did it all feel fake?