Gemotions

He stared at the reflection in the shop window. The new shoes seemed to mock him, the perfect fit of them a constant reminder of his lapse. His heart hammered in his chest with an uneven rhythm.

He’d bought his daughter a birthday gift, something she'd always wanted, using the money. He'd justified it, told himself it was an investment in her happiness. But now, seeing his own face, he saw only a stranger.

His daughter's laughter, which used to be music, now sounded like a discordant symphony. He hadn't slept well in days. He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture a nervous twitch.