Gemotions

John paced the length of the living room, the Persian rug feeling rough beneath his bare feet. He stopped in front of the window, staring out at the manicured lawn, a scene of superficial serenity. His son, Michael, kept to himself. This was nothing new. He'd always been a private kid. But the messages he'd found… they stung.

His jaw clenched. He felt a deep unease, a gnawing feeling of disconnectedness. He'd thought they had a good relationship. He’d made an effort. He let out a frustrated sigh, which seemed to ripple through the air.

He picked up the phone, hesitating before dialing his wife. The conversation would be difficult, filled with unspoken anxieties. What did he really know about his own son?