Gemotions

The notification pinged. Mark checked his son's phone, which he'd taken to the shop to fix. It was a secondary account, a place where his son’s carefully constructed public image dissolved into something else. The profile picture showed a grinning cartoon character.

He scanned the posts: video game clips, inside jokes, and a steady stream of teenage drama. The usual. His shoulders dipped; he felt the slightest of lurches inside, almost an absence.

He replaced the phone on the counter, then turned back to the stack of electronics needing repairs. The wires, the circuits, the complexity of the machines – all of it demanded his complete focus. The phone held no more significance than a broken radio.