Gemotions

The scent of his mother's perfume, a heavy, cloying floral, hung in the air, a suffocating presence. He found himself avoiding her, retreating to his room and slamming the door behind him. The sound was a small act of defiance.

He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the closed door. He could hear her moving around in the kitchen, humming a cheerful tune. He felt his hands clench into fists. He wanted to scream, to lash out, to shatter the placid facade of their life.

He buried his face in his hands. He wished he could go back to the way things were.