Gemotions

The meticulously organized desk, usually a source of comfort, now seemed an arena. He picked up the flashcards, the neatly written notes. He felt a surge of pure, unadulterated frustration, constricting his chest.

"You've been... learning?" He stared at her, his voice barely audible, struggling to keep a grip on his composure. The silence that followed was oppressive.

She looked crestfallen. "I wanted to be better, for you."

Better? He felt a sharp, cutting pain, not so different from a physical wound. He pushed the flashcards away. He turned away, needing air. He hated this, this feeling.