Gemotions

David stalked into the kitchen, his face contorted. He'd been helping his mother clean out the basement, and she'd insisted on showcasing his old science projects. The sight of the lopsided volcano, the meticulously crafted but ultimately failed solar oven, made him want to scream. His voice caught in his throat.

"Mom, really?" he croaked, gesturing at the display. Each project was a painful reminder of his awkward adolescence, of his yearning for popularity, and the inevitable disappointments. He felt a creeping heat rise in his face as she beamed at a family friend. He could feel his ears burning.

He excused himself, making a hasty retreat towards the backyard. He kicked a stray soccer ball with unnecessary force, the thwack of the leather against the plastic siding a release for the tension winding inside him. He felt exposed, stripped bare.