Rhythm
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I twist the gold band around my thumb, as I struggle to push the words on my index card out of my mouth.
My heart bursts into palpitations the speed of light. I struggle to breathe between each sentence. The tremor of my knees feels as though it is screaming to the crowd. I want to hide. I want to cry.
I wonder if they notice.
My eyes catch random bursts of light surging before me. Camera shutters roar and echo in my skull. Crimson rises through my cheeks as bright as a traffic light.
I've never had a problem with crowds before. In fact, I've always loved public speaking.
The problem is, I'm not who should be here.
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disaster
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