Gemotions

The silence of the house was punctuated only by the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway, a sound that seemed to mock Rebecca's mounting anxiety. Her son, Ethan, had been unusually quiet lately, always with his headphones on, retreating into his room.

She caught herself hovering near his door, her ear pressed against the wood, trying to decipher what was happening inside. The air in the house felt heavy, oppressive. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of leaves outside, set her on edge.

She made a pot of tea, but the warmth did nothing to soothe the growing unease. She kept glancing at her own phone, debating, hesitating. The longer she waited, the worse the feeling became.

She knew she shouldn't, but the temptation was almost unbearable. Her fingers trembled as she pulled out the old tablet he'd stopped using. She had to. She just had to.