Gemotions

The rain hammered against the window, mirroring the anxious rhythm in David's chest. He pulled his sweater tighter, staring out at the grey, indifferent world. His mother's voice, calling him down for breakfast, drifted up the stairs, a soothing command.

He felt the unwelcome weight of inertia pushing him downward. This used to be his refuge, his solace. He wondered if this was the right choice to move back home.

He found himself sitting at the kitchen table, the only one there. He was always last, always late. His mother placed a plate of scrambled eggs in front of him, her smile gentle. “Sleep well?”

He picked at his food, unable to meet her gaze. The silence stretched, filled only by the ticking of the kitchen clock. The burden of being taken care of became heavy.