All eyes turned in his direction as he strode through the narrow
aisle towards the makeshift podium - a scarred, portable wooden lectern resting
on a small white round table. He stepped over the cord as he reached his
destination, noticing the dull silver microphone resting on the table.
His body shifted from side to side as he was introduced. He watched as the chatter slowly died and attention focused on the podium. There were a few familiar faces sprinkled among the group, those he had recently met.
A chill swept over his body. He was covered in sweat and suddenly nauseous. The sound of the door opening filled the room as he exited and ran to the nearest restroom. His prayers were answered as it was empty. His forehead rested in his hands while sitting in the tiny stall, expecting someone to interrupt the silence any minute.
The flush echoed in the brilliantly white room. Running water and a few towels left a presentable face, but the feet would not cooperate as he decided to return. The searching for advice and lessons from the college public speaking class were non-existent while trying to convince his feet to move.
The nerve finally returned and he was strolling towards the doors that served as his previous exit. The chatter had returned as he stepped into the room, feeling his right foot slide across the linoleum floor as he planted, awaiting recognition.
The smiling face of his sponsor briefly calmed the nerves. He nodded to confirm that he was okay and ready for a restart - or 'do over' as he and his brother liked to call it when they were growing up. He firmly grasped the podium - one hand locked on each side - and surveyed the crowd again.
He tried to look at only the foreheads as everyone had advised, but it was hard to avoid the eyes. He cleared his throat and glanced down at the blank wood surface, wishing for kind of notes. The words suddenly formed in his throat as he looked up. He opened with the usual line and it became easier as the words flowed and heads nodded agreement.
His body shifted from side to side as he was introduced. He watched as the chatter slowly died and attention focused on the podium. There were a few familiar faces sprinkled among the group, those he had recently met.
A chill swept over his body. He was covered in sweat and suddenly nauseous. The sound of the door opening filled the room as he exited and ran to the nearest restroom. His prayers were answered as it was empty. His forehead rested in his hands while sitting in the tiny stall, expecting someone to interrupt the silence any minute.
The flush echoed in the brilliantly white room. Running water and a few towels left a presentable face, but the feet would not cooperate as he decided to return. The searching for advice and lessons from the college public speaking class were non-existent while trying to convince his feet to move.
The nerve finally returned and he was strolling towards the doors that served as his previous exit. The chatter had returned as he stepped into the room, feeling his right foot slide across the linoleum floor as he planted, awaiting recognition.
The smiling face of his sponsor briefly calmed the nerves. He nodded to confirm that he was okay and ready for a restart - or 'do over' as he and his brother liked to call it when they were growing up. He firmly grasped the podium - one hand locked on each side - and surveyed the crowd again.
He tried to look at only the foreheads as everyone had advised, but it was hard to avoid the eyes. He cleared his throat and glanced down at the blank wood surface, wishing for kind of notes. The words suddenly formed in his throat as he looked up. He opened with the usual line and it became easier as the words flowed and heads nodded agreement.
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