Gemotions

The chipped mug warmed Finn’s hands, but did nothing to thaw the iciness radiating from his core. He stared out the kitchen window, watching the rain slick the familiar garden path, the same path he'd stomped down as a teenager, filled with a different kind of frustration. Now, the weight of his failed business, his failed relationship, his failed… everything, pressed down on him. He took a long, slow sip of the lukewarm coffee, the taste of it metallic against his tongue. His mother hummed in the other room, an infuriatingly cheerful melody.

He slammed the mug onto the counter, the sound echoing in the sudden silence. "Everything alright, Finn?" his mother called, her voice laced with concern. He didn’t reply. He just turned back to the window, the rain mirroring the dark, unsettled turmoil within. He felt a profound sense of being adrift, cast away, a shipwrecked soul on the shores of his parents' overly-tidy, meticulously-decorated home.

His stomach clenched, a familiar knot of resentment forming in the pit of it.