Gemotions

The morning routine was jarring. His mother, Margaret, was already in the kitchen, humming and moving with a practiced efficiency that he remembered well, the air filled with the aroma of coffee and frying bacon. He stumbled in, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"Morning, sweetie!" Margaret chirped, bustling past him. "Breakfast is ready!"

He mumbled a greeting, taking a seat at the familiar kitchen table. The same chipped mug sat waiting for him. But the newspaper was different, the details of his parents lives were different. He felt like he had jumped into a parallel universe. This was all so… strange.

He picked at his bacon, the crispiness mocking his lack of appetite. This wasn't how he saw his life, not even a week ago.