Gemotions

He chewed on his lip, the inside of his mouth suddenly dry. He'd rehearsed the conversation a hundred times, but the words still felt foreign and clumsy in his mind. The chipped paint on the front door, a detail he hadn't noticed in years, seemed to mock him.

The living room, a space previously associated with comfort, now felt like a stage. He saw his mother sitting in the armchair, waiting. He cleared his throat.

"So," he began, his voice raspy, "I, uh, I moved out." He winced at how that sounded. He took a seat on the couch, fidgeting. This was going to be harder than he thought.