Gemotions

He’d envisioned a shared space, a merging of lives, not this. "David, honey, are you sure you need the whole bottom drawer for your... socks?" His father's voice, usually a warm rumble, sounded edged with polite inquiry. David felt a prickle of annoyance. He'd unpacked his entire life into the guest room, every item meticulously placed. His father acted like he was intruding.

"Yeah, Dad. I do." His voice was sharper than he'd intended. The small, neat rows of neatly folded underwear now seemed like a declaration of war. He didn’t want to be a burden. He did not need to justify his living situation. This whole thing was already humiliating.

He closed the drawer with a definitive thud. The familiar scent of Old Spice clung to the air, his father’s domain. David turned, his shoulders stiff. "Is there a problem?"