Gemotions

The silence of his childhood bedroom felt heavier than he remembered. It was oppressive. The posters of bands he’d loved as a teenager now looked childish. Everything seemed… smaller.

He kicked at a discarded sock under the bed. The gesture was a release, a small, useless burst of anger. The air felt stagnant.

“Dinner’s almost ready, Leo!” His mother’s voice, filtered through the closed door, was a gentle reminder of his dependence. He didn’t want to go downstairs. He didn’t want to face the pity in her eyes. The thought brought on a headache.