Gemotions

The movers were finishing up, the last of the boxes disappearing into the house. He stood back, admiring the scene, taking it all in.

His father, watching him, gave a nod. He had always been so stoic. But this time, he was softer.

He took charge, directing where each piece of furniture should go. He was the one driving the moving van. It was his career that had stalled, not his life.

That night, he cooked dinner for his parents, a gourmet meal he'd learned from years of cooking for himself. As they ate, he recounted his plans for the future with such vigour, he knew they could see him in a different way. He could feel it in the way his mother kept refilling his glass of wine.