Gemotions

The chipped mug warmed Elias's hands, yet he couldn't seem to settle. He paced the cramped kitchen, the linoleum cold beneath his bare feet. Sunlight streamed through the window, highlighting dust motes dancing in the air, a miniature, mocking universe he couldn't quite grasp. His mother, humming, flipped pancakes at the stove. "Everything alright, dear?" she asked, her voice a soothing balm he found himself oddly rejecting. He shrugged, avoiding her gaze. "Just… coffee."

He felt the familiar thrumming, a low-level vibration that made him want to rip off his skin and start again. The walls, once a comfort, now felt like they were closing in. He needed to *do* something, anything, besides stand here and watch his life slowly circle the drain in a pool of lukewarm coffee.

He picked at the pancake, pushing it around the plate. The syrup tasted too sweet, the texture too spongy. He stood, grabbed his jacket, and headed for the front door, the slamming echoing in the small house.