Gemotions

The dust motes danced in the single shaft of sunlight piercing the gloom of the living room, a visual representation of the aimless day. Robert had been sitting in the same chair for hours, staring out the window. Time stretched and warped, an amorphous blob of inactivity.

His son, Alex, had been spending more and more time in his room, behind closed doors. He hadn’t noticed him, he hadn’t heard him. He felt as if he had no place in his life, and that feeling ate at him.

He got up, drawn to the place he knew he shouldn’t go. He went to Alex's room, and opened the door. Alex was not there. The laptop glowed, displaying a social media page he did not recognize. He leaned closer, and the truth of Alex's secret, lay before his eyes.