Gemotions

The envelope felt strangely heavy in David's trembling hand. He’d found it tucked away in his father's old desk – a secret drawer he’d never known existed. Inside, a collection of photographs. His father, the stoic war hero, wasn't there. Instead, there was a man laughing, holding a fishing rod, with a woman who wasn't his mother, smiling at him.

David slumped in the creaky chair, the image of his father – rigid, unyielding – flashing behind his eyes. He had spent his entire life trying to meet his father’s expectations, and he had failed. He hadn't been able to make him proud. He never could.

He closed the drawer, his movements sluggish. He had always tried to be the perfect son, and he had failed. He felt like a broken machine, incapable of function, his gears stripped and useless.