Gemotions

The drive back to his parents' house felt like a slow-motion descent into purgatory. The car, packed with the remnants of his failed life, felt heavy with the weight of his inadequacies. He’d told his friends he was “taking a break”. The reality was that he’d been evicted.

The house, once a haven, now felt like a prison. His father greeted him with a hearty clap on the back, the gesture feeling more like a judgement. His mother bustled around the kitchen, her efficiency a stark contrast to his own recent failures. He wished he could disappear.

He spent the evening shut away in his childhood bedroom, the walls closing in. The smell of his old shampoo and the familiar creak of the floorboards felt suffocating. He pressed his face against the window, watching the world move on, feeling like he was stuck in slow motion.