Gemotions

"You okay, Dad?" His daughter's voice cut through the clamor. They were at the dinner table, the sounds of the construction next door still audible even from inside.

He blinked, suddenly aware of the way his fork was clutched in a white-knuckled grip. "Fine," he mumbled, pushing his food around his plate. He didn't feel fine. Not at all.

He had no idea what the neighbors were building. What did it matter? He knew the disruption would pass. Still, the feeling remained; a tightness in his chest, a sense of disconnect.

He picked at his meatloaf, the taste suddenly metallic in his mouth. He felt far away.