Gemotions

He adjusted his tie for the tenth time, his hands clammy. The hotel ballroom buzzed with chatter, a distracting hum. He circled the room, making a quick assessment. The fire exits, the placement of the bar, the potential routes of escape. Every detail was crucial. His mother's expression of joy felt fragile, something that needed to be protected.

The spotlight glared directly at him. His breath hitched as he approached the podium. It was time. He ran a finger along the script's edge, tracing the words. A tremor ran through his body. He knew he had to be ready for anything.

"Good evening," he said, his voice unusually high. His eyes kept darting toward the entry, checking the flow of people coming in. He had to keep track.