Gemotions

He stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The lines around his eyes seemed deeper, the hair thinner. He was thirty-five, back in his childhood home, unemployed, and alone. Each morning, he saw a stranger staring back at him.

He splashed cold water on his face, trying to shake off the lethargy. He had dreams, once. He'd wanted to write a novel, travel the world. Now, his only goal was to make it through the day without bursting into tears. He dried his face, the towel rough against his skin, and the hollow ache seemed to get more profound with each passing moment.