Gemotions

He stared at the framed photo on the mantelpiece. It was a picture of his sister, a graduate in her cap and gown. He remembered the ceremony, the pride radiating from his parents. His graduation had been met with a polite handshake and a brief congratulations.

He clenched his jaw, a tight, cold pressure building in his head. His own achievements, once celebrated, now felt irrelevant, overshadowed by her successes.

He picked up a book, but his eyes refused to focus. The words blurred, the pages a mocking reminder of the disparity. His chest felt heavy, constricted.