Gemotions

The scent of pine cleaner and lemon polish in the air of the house did not help. It felt cloying. He sat stiffly on the sofa, the remote control clutched tightly in his hand. He’d been channel surfing for hours, unable to focus on anything. The endless loop of commercials seemed to mirror the stagnation of his life.

His father, bless his heart, tried to make conversation, asking about his job search. Every question, no matter how innocent, felt like a jab. He grunted in response, offering short, clipped answers. He couldn’t bring himself to meet his father's gaze.

He finally stood up, muttering something about needing some air. He grabbed his coat, feeling the weight of the unspoken expectations like a physical burden. He knew he should be grateful, but all he felt was this deep, gnawing dissatisfaction.