Gemotions

The drive back had been long, the scenery blurred by tears he couldn't seem to stop. He’d lost his job, his girlfriend, his apartment – everything. Now, he was back in the place he’d sworn he'd never return.

His father was already in the garage, tinkering with something. He greeted him with a curt nod. His mother's welcome was effusive, bordering on frantic. He swallowed, the lump in his throat making it difficult to breathe.

He unpacked his things, each item a reminder of the life he'd lost. The weight of it all settled upon him, a heavy, suffocating blanket. He knew what lay ahead. The same routines, the same arguments, the same suffocating familiarity.