Gemotions

He hated the silence. Liam paced the confines of his childhood bedroom, the floorboards groaning under his weight. His father was at work. His sister was away at college. The house, usually vibrant and alive, was a tomb. The boxes in the corner, filled with his adolescent failings, served as a constant reminder.

He picked up a science project he'd worked on in the sixth grade: a volcano that had never actually erupted. He traced the crude, papier-mâché mountain with a knuckle. He wanted to shatter it.

He gripped the project tightly, feeling the familiar, uncomfortable heat rise in his chest. A strange tension made him feel as if he had swallowed a stone. He clenched his jaw, the ache growing until it radiated down his neck.