Gemotions

He leaned back in his chair, the office swivel creaking in protest. Mark tapped his pen against the desk, the rhythmic click a frantic counterpoint to the raging thoughts in his head. His son, Daniel, a college freshman, had a secret account, filled with nihilistic memes and thinly-veiled insults about the family. It was a complete waste of intellectual energy, according to Mark.

The sheer banality of it all was almost too much. Daniel, with his pretentious poetry and gloomy pronouncements, was just another whiny kid. The account felt like a poorly-written play, full of cliches and unearned drama. Mark felt a surge of impatience, a sudden craving for something truly substantive. He took a sip of water, but the taste was bland.