Gemotions

Clara felt a tremor in her hands as she navigated the crowded buffet. The ballroom buzzed with chatter, a cacophony that grated on her nerves. She picked at a miniature quiche, her appetite completely gone. Her mother’s retirement party. It was a wonderful occasion, she knew, but the pressure was immense. The speech. She hadn't even started it.

Her smile felt brittle as she greeted Aunt Carol. Her jaw ached from clenching. She found herself fiddling with her necklace, twisting the chain around her finger. Every few seconds, she would dart a look at the stage, where the microphone stood, waiting. The air felt thick, difficult to breathe.

She kept replaying the words, "Thank you for all you've done," but they felt hollow. She wanted to express her gratitude, to share all her feelings. They eluded her. She found herself avoiding eye contact, preferring to watch the swirling patterns of the tablecloth. The party seemed to stretch out before her, an endless expanse.