Gemotions

The presentation slides swam before Ben’s eyes. He'd rehearsed this pitch a hundred times, but now, he could barely remember his name. He ran a hand through his hair, dislodging a strand that fell across his forehead. He didn't bother to brush it away.

His throat constricted as if an invisible hand was squeezing it. He wanted to run, to escape the suffocating heat of the room. The faces of the board members blurred, and their words sounded distant.

He clutched the edge of the podium, his knuckles white. The words he’d prepared seemed foreign and flat. He felt a desperate urge to be somewhere else. Anywhere else.