Gemotions

The silence in the house was a palpable thing. It pressed in on Oliver, heavy and suffocating. He wandered from room to room, unable to settle. He picked at a loose thread on his sweater, the action a nervous tic. He felt an itch he couldn't scratch, a persistent tremor beneath the surface.

He stopped in the doorway of the living room, staring at the familiar furniture, the faded wallpaper, the dust motes dancing in the afternoon light. It all seemed so…still. So unchanging. He felt a desperate need for disruption, for something to jolt him out of the stagnant atmosphere of the house.

He slammed his fist against the doorframe, a sharp, sudden crack that echoed in the stillness. His eyes flashed. "Something has to change," he growled under his breath.