Gemotions

The invitation felt heavy in Elias's hand, like a brick. He’d reread the email a dozen times, each pass making his stomach churn a little more. The speech. The thought of it caused a persistent prickling at the back of his neck. He'd always been more comfortable with numbers, with logic. Words, especially heartfelt ones, were a different beast entirely.

He practiced in front of his bathroom mirror, his voice a reedy whisper. He stumbled over the anecdotes, his face flushing crimson with each misstep. His palms were slick with perspiration, and he had to keep wiping them on his jeans. The retirement party was next Saturday. He felt a profound sense of unease settle over him.

He avoided his parents all week. He’d promised himself he’d call, offer his help with the preparations, but the phone seemed to morph into a lead weight every time he picked it up. His chest felt tight, constricted.