Gemotions

The tiny bedroom felt smaller than he remembered, the walls closing in. He stared at the faded Star Wars posters he'd never bothered to take down as a kid, a visual reminder of a life he'd outgrown long ago. The air was thick with the scent of lavender potpourri, a scent his mother adored.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, feeling his face get hot. He took a breath. The silence of the house was punctuated only by the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway. It was rhythmic, inescapable. He picked up his phone, scrolled through his contact list, and then slammed his phone back down on the bedside table.

The silence grew louder. He felt a wave of anger crash over him.