Gemotions

He slammed the car door a little too hard, the sound echoing in the silent street. He walked toward the house, his shoulders hunched, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. The porch light cast long, distorted shadows that seemed to follow his every move.

He fumbled with the key, his fingers clumsy with a familiar mix of annoyance and self-loathing. The click of the lock, the creak of the door – each sound grated on his nerves. He found his parents in the living room, watching television, a picture of domestic tranquility that only deepened his sense of isolation.

He offered a curt nod, then retreated to his room, seeking the solitude that seemed to be the only thing that could remotely soothe the raw ache inside him.