Gemotions

The retirement home’s activity room felt suffocatingly warm. The aroma of stale coffee and floral arrangements hung heavy in the air. John's head throbbed. He glanced at the podium, a simple wooden structure that suddenly seemed like an execution platform.

He found himself fidgeting, adjusting his tie, re-buttoning his jacket. He cleared his throat repeatedly, the sound echoing in the silence between conversations. It felt like the air was being sucked from the room.

He could feel the eyes of everyone on him, like pinpricks on his skin. He wished he could teleport himself somewhere, anywhere, else. He felt a sudden, desperate urge to flee.