Gemotions

He stood in the doorway, the apartment keys dangling uselessly in his hand. The city, which had always felt like his oyster, now pressed in on him like a cage. Every siren, every distant rumble of traffic, amplified the tremor in his hands. He hadn't slept properly in days. The prospect of facing his parents, of being seen as a failure, clawed at his insides.

“Son, is that you?” His father’s voice, a steady anchor in a sea of his own turmoil, pulled him back from the edge. He swallowed hard, trying to appear nonchalant, like this whole thing wasn't shattering him from the inside.

"Yeah, Dad. It's me. Can I… can I come in?"