Gemotions

John slumped onto the porch swing, the wood cold against his back. The late afternoon sun cast long, skeletal shadows across the lawn, reflecting his own skeletal sense of well-being. His son, Michael, had been avoiding him, locked away in his room, glued to his phone. John had tried, gently, to bridge the gap, but the boy had only met his attempts with a defensive wall of silence.

He’d found the account by accident, a suggested friend on his own social media feed. The profile screamed “Michael,” but the persona was alien. Darker photos, cryptic posts. The content was a world away from the bright, friendly boy John knew.

He ran a hand through his hair, a weary sigh escaping his lips. He was suddenly aware of the empty house, the echoes of laughter that were no longer. The distance felt vast, a chasm he wasn’t sure how to cross.