Gemotions

The weight of the unopened bills on the kitchen table pressed down on him. Another month, the same story. He’d hoped to be independent by now. He was sure he’d make it. He was sure.

His father, seeing the mail, placed a hand on his shoulder, a silent gesture of support. He turned away. He didn't want the pity. He knew what he was.

Later, as he lay in bed, the sheets felt like a cage. The silence of the house was deafening, filled with the ghosts of his unrealized ambitions. He stared into the darkness, a vast, echoing emptiness that mirrored the hollowness within him.