Gemotions

The speech was going poorly. She knew it. Her voice cracked, and she fumbled over the prepared remarks. She kept catching her father’s eye, and a flicker of something she couldn't quite name – perhaps disappointment? – crossed his face.

She stared down at the crisp white tablecloth, suddenly fascinated by the intricate folds. She remembered all the times she’d promised to visit, the birthdays missed, the phone calls unanswered.

The air in the room felt thick, oppressive. She wanted to disappear, to vanish into the floral arrangements that lined the stage.