Gemotions

He found himself standing in front of his old bedroom door, the faded Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles sticker still clinging to the wood. Leo, Donatello, Raphael, and Michelangelo, guarding a space he hadn't occupied fully in over a decade. He tentatively twisted the doorknob, the metal cool beneath his touch.

The room smelled of old books and something faintly floral, a scent he couldn't quite place, but it settled in his chest like a warm weight. Dust motes danced in the late afternoon sun that streamed through the window.

He saw the bed, unmade, the sheets rumpled. He didn't want to move or disturb anything, the way the room had remained was what he felt he needed.