Gemotions

He avoided eye contact with his father at the dinner table, pushing the meatloaf around his plate. Every comment, even the kind ones, felt like a judgment. His father asked about his job search, his tone neutral, but Daniel imagined the pity flickering beneath the surface. He should be working, building a life, not back here, reliant.

He excused himself before dessert, claiming a headache. In his old bedroom, now a shrine to his adolescence, he collapsed onto the bed. The weight of his own perceived inadequacy pressed down on him. The posters on the wall, the model cars on the shelf – they all felt like relics of a more innocent time, before he’d become a disappointment.

He sat up suddenly, a flush of heat creeping up his neck. He had to prove he wasn’t useless. He had to show them. He grabbed his laptop, ignoring the familiar ache in his stomach.