Gemotions

He found himself pacing the living room, the familiar squeak of the floorboards a soundtrack to his mental turmoil. His father had started leaving encouraging notes on the refrigerator: "You'll figure it out!" "This too shall pass!" Each note felt like a small, unwelcome jab. He hadn't asked for guidance. Or maybe he had.

He paused, staring out the window at the familiar street. Everything was the same, yet nothing felt right. This house, his childhood home, now felt like a maze, and he couldn't find the exit.