Gemotions

"So, you're staying for a while then?" his father asked, the casual tone laced with an unmistakable undercurrent of something else. David forced a smile, the muscles in his face protesting. He'd never liked that question.

The kitchen felt cramped, the familiar appliances suddenly unfamiliar. He poured himself a glass of water, the ice clinking loudly in the otherwise quiet room. His parents watched him, their eyes following his every move. He felt like a specimen under a microscope.

Later, he found himself sitting on the front porch, the cool night air doing little to soothe his rising agitation. The streetlights cast long, distorted shadows, making the houses look alien and menacing. He lit a cigarette, the smoke curling upwards, carrying with it a sense of desperation and a profound sense of shame.