Gemotions

The rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway seemed to amplify the silence in the house. Richard hovered near the doorway of his son, Thomas’s, room. He glanced at the phone screen, now in his hand. The secret profile was a minefield of unfamiliar faces, rebellious attitudes and a level of negativity that was a complete contrast to the boy who ate breakfast with him every morning.

He sat heavily on the bed, the mattress sinking slightly beneath his weight. His throat felt constricted, making it difficult to swallow. The air in the room felt thick, heavy with unspoken tension. He felt a deep sense of wrongness, the world around him tilting.

Richard stared at the screen, the vibrant colours blurring. He was a father, but he felt like he was falling. He felt the overwhelming need to protect his child, even from himself.