Gemotions

The sun, sinking below the horizon, cast long shadows across the park. The vibrant colors of the playground seemed too bright, too energetic. Michael sat on a bench, watching children play, the carefree laughter a distant sound. His own laughter was a forgotten thing. The ping of his phone broke the stillness. He looked, and saw the request: From "Robert Peterson."

Robert, the boy who'd always been better than him at everything. The name itself felt like a stone in his gut. The familiar surge of inadequacy flooded him. He remembered the feeling of always being compared, always falling short. He felt as though he’d been placed in a box, a space he couldn't leave. He felt tired. The sky darkened, mirroring the shadows that had gathered inside him.

He shoved his phone back in his pocket.