Gemotions

The silence in the car was a tangible thing, heavy and oppressive. He gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. His mother, in the passenger seat, kept up her cheerful attempts at conversation. "The weather's lovely today, isn't it, David?" she chirped. He grunted in response, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. He’d been driving her to the grocery store, a weekly ritual he used to despise, now a symbol of his current status: chauffeur to the woman who’d raised him, a role he hadn't asked for. The need to scream was almost unbearable.