Gemotions

The hum of the washing machine vibrated through the floorboards, a constant irritant in the already tense atmosphere. I found myself snapping at my younger brother over the TV remote. I didn’t even want to watch the show.

The house, once a haven, had become a battleground. My parents’ constant questions about dating, my career, my "future" felt like relentless jabs.

The air felt thick, like he was breathing through a clogged drain. I marched to the kitchen and grabbed a bag of chips, overeating, the mindless consumption a balm of sorts. Every crunch, a small victory against the onslaught.