Gemotions

"Just breathe," Maya muttered, staring into the mirror. Her reflection mirrored her own distress; her eyes were wide, and her lips were pressed into a thin line. Her mother’s retirement party. She should be delighted. Instead, she had an unpleasant feeling.

She smoothed the front of her dress, her fingers trembling. The makeup felt heavy on her face, and her stomach clenched. She glanced at the speech notes clutched in her hand, the words a jumbled mess. She'd stayed up all night, trying to memorize them, but nothing seemed to stick.

She closed her eyes, trying to visualize the room, the crowd, her mother. Images of her mother's beaming face, interspersed with the thought of her own impending performance, caused a flicker of panic. She took a deep breath. She opened the door, and stepped out, the air seemed heavy.