Gemotions

The microphone felt alien in her hand. A tremor ran through her fingers, making the plastic click against her nail. Sunlight streamed through the banquet hall windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air, a fact that both fascinated and bothered her. Her mother smiled, radiating the warmth of a thousand suns, but it felt like a spotlight on her. She swallowed, the knot in her stomach tightening. She had rehearsed this speech a dozen times, but now, faced with the sea of faces, the words seemed to evaporate like morning mist.

“Well,” she began, her voice sounding thin and reedy, “it’s… it’s wonderful to be here.” The sentence felt hollow, insincere. She shifted her weight, the too-tight shoes pinching her toes. Looking at her father, beaming with pride, she felt an inexplicable urge to flee the room.