Gemotions

He’d told them he was “taking a break.” A break from what? From his apartment? From his job? From life, apparently. David hated himself for the look on his mother's face when he walked through the door carrying only a backpack and a grocery bag.

He kept his head down as he unpacked his meagre belongings into the spare bedroom. His father, usually a chatterbox, was unusually quiet, his eyes shadowed as he puttered in the garden.

David skipped dinner, feigning a headache, and locked himself in the room, the four walls closing in. He felt the familiar heat creeping up his neck.

The silence of the house was more deafening than any noise, each creak of the floorboards a judgment.