Gemotions

The chipped ceramic mug felt heavy in Leo's hands. He hadn't touched it since… well, since before. The steam curled upwards, carrying the ghost of coffee that his mother used to brew every morning. Now, it was just instant, a bitter reminder of how much had changed. He stared at the floral wallpaper, the same pattern from his childhood bedroom. He wasn't sure he could breathe in here.

He took a shaky sip. The coffee scalded his tongue, but the pain was welcome. Anything to distract from the hollow ache that had settled in his chest, a constant, dull throb. He missed the way his father’s laugh used to fill the house, a sound he'd never hear again.

The doorbell chimed, a cheerful, unwelcome sound. He set the mug down with a clatter, the sound too loud in the quiet house. He didn't want to open the door, didn't want to face the pity in his mother's eyes. But he knew, with a certainty that cut like a shard of glass, that she wouldn’t stop knocking.