Gemotions

The smell of his mother’s cooking, once a comfort, now triggered a familiar ache in Thomas's stomach. It was like a physical manifestation of his discontent.

He sat at the kitchen table, watching his father meticulously butter his toast, a ritual he’d observed a thousand times before. He couldn't remember a time he’d been able to afford his own space; at 42, he felt stuck.

He pushed his plate away, a lump forming in his throat. The walls of the house felt like they were shrinking, and with them, his own world.