Gemotions

It was like a sudden, unwelcome rainstorm had washed away the carefully constructed facade of his adult life. He went to his garage and pulled out his old baseball glove, the leather cracking and stiffening with age, the smell evoking an ache in his chest. His teenage self, so full of dreams and insecurities, staring back at him from the screen, felt like a stranger and an echo.

He walked into the house, but found no comfort. He wandered from room to room. He noticed the dust on the furniture, the quietness of the space. Everything felt empty. He hated it.

He sat on the sofa. He stared at the ceiling, thinking of how he could make it disappear. The light was harsh, the walls closing in. He felt trapped.