Gemotions

"Just go," his mother said, her voice soft but firm. He could taste the anger, a bitter tang, on his tongue. He had tried to explain, to justify his feelings, but the words felt clumsy, inadequate. He couldn't quite meet her eyes, instead staring at the scuffed floorboards of their kitchen. He knew she was trying to comfort him. He also knew she couldn’t understand, not really. This felt as though it was something he had to navigate alone. He grabbed his bag, muttering a strained goodbye, and left, the slam of the front door echoing behind him.