Gemotions

"Are you all right, dear?" her husband, David, asked, noticing her short breaths. Amelia was meticulously straightening the already perfectly arranged floral centerpiece. Her jaw was tight. She'd been practicing her speech in her head for days, but each time she started, the words vanished.

She hated being the center of attention. She dreaded the moment when all eyes would turn toward her, awaiting her words. She felt a burning sensation in her throat. She cleared it. She wanted to be articulate, to honor her father. She just… couldn't.

David put a hand on her arm. She flinched, then forced a smile. "Just fine," she said, her voice sounding thin, fragile, to her own ears. She poured herself a glass of water and drank it in one long swallow, then turned away from him to busy herself arranging the champagne flutes.