Gemotions

He checked the chess clock again, even though he knew the time. The silence in the house, broken only by the rhythmic tapping of keys on his son's laptop, was almost unbearable. His son, Ethan, was obsessed with chess, just like he had been.

He felt a pressure building in his head. His hands were clasped so tightly, his knuckles were white. He had found himself pacing the room, restlessly. He’d thought of trying to help, but he hadn't the heart to interrupt the new game.

Ethan was on a winning streak, he knew. He was playing the same opening that he'd poured over, studying every variation. His stomach churned as he waited for the match to finish.