Gemotions

"Speak at Dad's party? Yes, of course," I'd said, the words feeling thin and hollow even as they left my mouth. Now, the day was here, and the thought of the speech had been a dull ache in my chest for weeks. My energy had evaporated, leaving behind a profound sense of inertia.

I picked at the food at the buffet, the flavors muted and uninteresting. The room felt crowded, the noise a dull roar.

Standing at the microphone, the words felt like foreign objects, difficult to place, and the sentences were arduous to assemble. It was an effort to remain upright.