Gemotions

The invitation sat on Clara’s desk, untouched, for a week. She avoided her mother's calls, dodging the inevitable conversation about the speech. She knew what was expected: a perfect performance, a display of familial harmony. A lie.

She felt a persistent tightness in her chest, a knot that refused to loosen. The pressure was immense. Her parents had dedicated their lives to providing for her and her siblings, and she felt a deep sense of guilt for her own inability to reciprocate.

She eventually arrived at the party, dressed in her best clothes, but she felt like a fraud. When she stood at the podium, the lights were blinding, the faces a blur. The words that came out of her mouth were a clumsy collection of platitudes, her voice cracking with every sentence.