Gemotions

The car ride to the party was a silent torture. Liam gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. His mother, always so effervescent, looked radiant tonight. Her laughter, usually a source of comfort, now grated on his nerves. He was supposed to be happy for her, to share in the joy of her new beginning. But a sense of despondency kept him rooted in place.

He glanced at the draft of his speech, crumpled in the passenger seat. He had the words, the structure, the perfect anecdotes. But the feeling that he was only going through the motions was overwhelming. He felt he was in a deep hole, unable to reach up for the ropes to pull himself out. He imagined himself standing before the crowd, his voice flat, his gaze unfocused, his words echoing in the vast expanse of nothingness.