Gemotions

The key scraped in the lock, a sound that always felt wrong. Inside, the air smelled of lemon furniture polish and something else, something indefinable, like… memory? He blinked. His mother stood in the hallway, a forced smile plastered on her face, and her hands clasped tightly in front of her. "Welcome home, darling!" she chirped. He felt a cold prickle at the back of his neck.

He looked around the living room. Everything was the same, yet utterly changed. The floral wallpaper, the meticulously arranged knick-knacks, the dust-free surfaces. It was a museum of his childhood, but he was a stranger wandering through the exhibits. He kept touching things, unsure what he expected.

He found himself standing in front of the window, peering at the street. His old bedroom had become his new prison. How did he arrive here? He felt the need to understand it, and the more he looked, the more it eluded him. He sat down heavily on the bed, feeling his face flush, and wished he could stop the world from spinning.