Gemotions

The key scraped in the lock, a sound that sliced through the quiet of the empty house. After months of avoiding the inevitable, he was home. The scent of furniture polish and lemon cleaner greeted him. A home prepared.

His mother bustled from the kitchen, all hugs and reassurances. His father, a man of routine, retreated to the den. He surveyed the freshly made bed in his childhood room, the neatly folded towels, and a sense of profound weariness washed over him. He knew this would be a difficult journey, but he was too tired to fight it.