Gemotions

The phone rang. It was his mother, calling to check on him. He forced a smile into his voice, but the words felt clumsy, inadequate. He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat making it difficult to speak. He listened to her well-meaning reassurances, but they grated on his nerves. He wanted to scream, "Don't you understand?" but he stopped himself, the words catching in his throat.

After the call, he went to the bar and poured himself a shot of whiskey. He downed it quickly, the burning sensation a temporary distraction from the internal storm.