Gemotions

He found the note stuck to the refrigerator door: “Make sure you clean your room! We expect it to be immaculate, young man! Love, Mom & Dad xoxo.” He stared at it, a faint tremor of mirth dancing in his stomach. He was thirty-two. He was a lawyer. He had his own car, his own bank accounts, and yet, here he was.

He went to the fridge and retrieved a bottle of his mother's homemade kombucha. He hadn’t touched the stuff since high school. He took a long swig, the fizzy, vinegary taste instantly transporting him back. He couldn't help the small smile. The sheer level of control was fascinating.

Later, he found the vacuum cleaner in his room. It was running. His mother was in there, humming. He leaned against the doorframe, a laugh just below the surface.