Gemotions

He slumped onto the sofa, the familiar sag of the cushions mocking his own defeated posture. “So, another day of job hunting,” his dad said, his voice laced with forced cheer. Mark didn’t respond. He flipped through channels, landing on a game show with ear-splitting music.

His father chuckled, a sound that grated on Mark’s nerves. He hadn’t realized how relentlessly upbeat his father had become in his retirement. A lifetime spent working the same monotonous job, now followed by a life of relentless, empty cheer.

Mark changed the channel, finding a news report. He found himself thinking about his old apartment, the freedom it had given him. He missed the quiet, the isolation. He missed being the person in control.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” his mother’s voice rang out from the kitchen. Mark grunted in acknowledgment, already picturing the bland casserole she’d undoubtedly made. The thought of it made him want to scream.