Gemotions

The guest room, once her childhood bedroom, felt smaller now, the walls closing in. David ran a hand along the floral wallpaper, the pattern somehow more garish than he remembered. His mom had already hung his favorite framed picture from college, the one he swore had been his ex-girlfriend's fault.

He sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress already sagging under his weight. He was grateful, of course, for their generosity. But this felt like stepping backwards, like admitting defeat. His carefully constructed life, with its independence and freedom, had crumbled.

He stood up and opened the window. Fresh air, he thought.