Gemotions

From his perch on the barstool, Ethan listened as Jake recounted their college road trip. He remembered the loud music, the spontaneous detours, the endless supply of snacks. Ethan, meanwhile, remembered a constant state of anxiety.

The way Jake had driven recklessly; his need to do everything first. Ethan had been gripping the passenger seat, his knuckles white, terrified the whole time. He’d meticulously planned the trip, the stops, the budget, only to have his plans dismissed, his anxieties dismissed as silly.

He swirled the amber liquid in his glass. He felt a familiar knot tighten in his stomach. The bright lights of the bar seemed to dim, the music fading into a background hum. He felt a heavy feeling in his chest, a constant reminder of the burden he always carried. He knew he could not say anything, but the feeling lingered, heavy and dark.

"Good times," Ethan agreed, his voice flat. He felt like he was still stuck in that car.