Gemotions

The silence of the house was punctuated only by his own ragged breathing. He sat on the back porch steps, the cool night air doing little to calm the firestorm raging inside him.

He lit a cigarette, the flame trembling in his hand. The familiar taste of smoke was a small comfort, a fleeting moment of control. He knew this wasn't how it was supposed to be. He knew he shouldn't be here.

He stared up at the stars, feeling utterly lost and alone. Each second stretched out before him, an endless expanse of uncertainty.