The wind blew on the stage, just a slight breeze of cold air, but his palms were still sweating, probably due to his frail nerves. Marcus had never felt this anxious before throughout his life as he stared at the crowd before him.
It was not the people looking at him that had caused this tension on his stomach and trembling in his hand. He could handle a crowd like putty in his hands.
"I came here not just to celebrate the building of this great project or the celebration of our friend's birthday." The back of his palm automatically went to his forehead to wipe the trickle of sweat that moistened his skin.
Then, his eyes scanned the crowd below the stage, searching for someone. The glaring sun on the other side made it hard for him to look, making him squint his eyes and slightly cover them from its rays to see more clearly.
