Gemotions

The chipped paint on the front door seemed to mock him as he stood there, key in hand. He dreaded going in. His parents would be kind, of course, but he knew what they were thinking. His entire family knew.

Inside, the house smelled of home-cooked meals and old memories. He’d created no new ones. He was a failure. He hadn't built a life. He hadn't earned anything.

He retreated to his childhood bedroom, its walls covered in posters from his teenage years. The vibrant colors now seemed faded, the carefree dreams of his youth a painful reminder of what he had lost. He sat on the edge of the bed and wept, tears he did not try to stop.