Gemotions

The weight of the letter felt heavy in Elias's pocket, a physical manifestation of his disappointment. He avoided eye contact with his mother as he walked in from school, forcing a smile that felt brittle. The aroma of his favorite dish, spaghetti, filled the air, but he found his appetite gone. He wanted to tell her, to vent, but the words caught in his throat. He retreated to his room, slamming the door, then immediately regretted it. He quickly opened it again, hearing his mother’s soft call, but he couldn’t bring himself to answer. He sat on his bed, tracing patterns on the bedspread, focusing on anything but the empty space in his future.