Gemotions

"Are you even listening?" His father's voice cut through the fog in his brain. He blinked, forcing himself to focus on the worn linoleum floor of the kitchen. The scholarship, his golden ticket out of this dead-end town, had evaporated. Apparently, the donor had stipulated a "proven record of community service" and he'd been… well, busy. He’d never gotten around to it. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache begin to throb. The smell of frying bacon nauseated him. He felt like a beetle trapped under a rock, endlessly kicking, getting nowhere.