Gemotions

The chipped ceramic mug felt rough against Elias’s lip as he took a scalding sip of coffee. He’d been back in his childhood bedroom for three days, the floral wallpaper practically screaming at him. He bounced his leg, the rhythm a frantic counterpoint to the quiet hum of the refrigerator downstairs. Everything felt… amplified.

He slammed the mug down on the cluttered desk, the sound echoing in the small room. He needed to *do* something. He grabbed a box of old comic books, the covers vibrant and chaotic. He thumbed through them with a near-violent energy, the scent of aged paper and ink filling his nostrils. The air crackled with a sort of nervous energy.

Later, he found himself in the kitchen, hovering as his mother prepared dinner. He kept offering to help, his hands itching to be busy. He sliced tomatoes with unnecessary precision, the blade glinting under the fluorescent light. His mother smiled, but he could feel her slight unease.