Gemotions

The house seemed to hum with a forced cheerfulness. Mark’s father greeted him with a hearty clap on the back, a gesture that felt less like affection and more like a declaration of control. The familiar scent of furniture polish and freshly brewed coffee hung in the air.

He found himself constantly checking his phone, re-reading messages from old friends, searching for any sign of his previous life. He spent the evenings in his room, listening to music and staring out the window, watching the world move on without him.

Each night, the walls seemed to close in a little more.