Gemotions

The scent of freshly baked bread wafted through the open window, a cruel reminder of normalcy. Mark stood on the porch, his suitcase at his feet, listening to the muffled sounds of his parents' laughter from inside. His chest felt constricted.

His mother opened the door, her face lit with genuine delight. "Mark! You made it! Come in, come in! We've missed you!"

He took a hesitant step inside, feeling like he was walking onto a stage. The house, usually a place of comfort, now felt like a spotlight, the details of his failure etched into every surface. He stammered a greeting, his voice tight.

"Thanks, Mom." He needed to get away. He felt the impulse to turn around and run.