Gemotions

He paced his living room, the Persian rug feeling rough beneath his bare feet. A tightness settled in his chest, a sensation akin to being physically constrained. He had seen the account, a carefully curated collection of photos, and the username – something edgy, unlike anything his son, Ben, used. He called Ben's phone. Straight to voicemail. He bit the inside of his cheek, a familiar habit when dealing with something that felt... off.

He grabbed his car keys and left, the click of the lock echoing in the quiet house. He drove past the skate park, the place Ben usually was. He saw no one that looked like his son. The sky felt too large, the world too quiet. He knew he was being paranoid, but he couldn't shake the feeling.