Gemotions

He paced the length of his small office, the worn carpet offering no comfort beneath his restless feet. The deadline loomed, the pressure of his boss's expectations a weight on his shoulders. He reached for his phone, intending to text his best friend, Liam, a quick vent about the project. His fingers, clumsy with fatigue, mistyped the number. The message, a string of frustrated emojis and the words "I can't take this anymore," went to his stern, unyielding father.

He froze, his blood turning to ice. The phone felt like a hot coal in his hand. He imagined his father's curt response, the disappointment that would hang in the air like a noxious gas. The back of his neck prickled, a familiar symptom of the criticism he knew was coming.

He closed his eyes, visualizing the inevitable lecture about resilience and pulling himself together. His shoulders slumped, the weight of the world suddenly centered on his spine. The room seemed to tilt slightly, the edges of his vision blurring.