Gemotions

The phone felt heavy in Liam's hand. He'd just finished the call, a conversation with his father about the move. His hands were slick. He had to pack now. He had to do it, now. He glanced around the empty apartment, and felt the weight of the situation on him.

The scent of his mother's perfume, a floral blend he knew too well, met him as he crossed the threshold. He stood in the doorway, suddenly unable to move. The bright, cheerful entryway was suddenly too much. Too much color. Too much order. He was used to the disorder of his own life.

“Liam! You’re here! Are you hungry?” her voice rang out, happy and bright.

He started, stumbling over his own feet, and mumbled something about unpacking. He needed to be alone. He needed to breathe. The air in the house seemed to grow thick, filling up his lungs.