Gemotions

He saw the sea of faces, all expectant. His palms began to sweat. He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture almost desperate. He took a sip of water, but his mouth remained dry. The air seemed thin, as if the room had sucked all the oxygen from it.

His mother beamed from her seat, a picture of maternal pride. He understood. He loved them. But tonight, standing before the crowd, he felt the familiar sensation of a locked door, the key lost.

He began the speech. He spoke of his parents’ hard work, their dedication, their love. But he felt the words catch in his throat, choked by the unspoken truth of his own existence.