Gemotions

My coffee sloshed over the rim of the mug as I jammed the front door shut. The newspaper boy, barely a teenager himself, flinched when he caught my eye. I usually tipped him, but today, I just wanted to be inside, away from the judgmental glare of the world. Each footstep felt amplified, the wooden floorboards creaking in protest as I moved through the empty house. The living room, usually a haven of calm, felt like a pressure cooker. I scrolled through the online article again, the headline mocking my younger self. Each line, a carefully crafted dagger.