Gemotions

The chipped mug trembled in Leo's hands. Steam curled upwards, carrying the scent of instant coffee, a smell that now felt like a punch to the gut. He stared at the faded floral wallpaper of the kitchen, identical to how it had been fifteen years ago. A wave of nausea rolled through him. He’d told himself it would be temporary, a helpful stopgap while he got back on his feet. But the weight of the ‘temporary’ threatened to crush him.

He heard his mother humming from the living room, a bright, cheerful sound that grated on his ears. He quickly retreated to his old bedroom, slamming the door a little too hard. The air was thick with the scent of mothballs and something else—a lingering sadness, perhaps—that clung to the cheap, particleboard furniture.

He sank onto the twin bed, the springs groaning in protest. He just needed to breathe, to find some space in his head. The weight of his recent failure pressed down on him. The move home felt like a colossal defeat.