Gemotions

“Are you okay, Dad?” His daughter’s small voice pierced through the fog that had settled around him. He managed a weak smile, a gesture he hoped masked the internal chaos.

He rubbed at his eyes, the lids heavy and unresponsive. He had promised to show her where he grew up, but his energy reserves had run dry. He gestured towards the overgrown yard, the dilapidated swing set, the remnants of a life.

He tried to explain, to articulate the emotions that swirled within him, but the words wouldn't come. His throat felt constricted, making it difficult to even swallow. He simply wanted to be excused, be free.