Gemotions

The microwave beeped, jolting Leo from a near-slumber on the living room sofa. He ignored it. It was probably Mom, nuking some leftovers she’d insisted on making the night before, a casserole that smelled suspiciously of cream of mushroom soup. He pulled the blanket tighter, the threadbare wool scratching his skin. His jaw ached from clenching it all day.

"Leo?" Her voice, cheerful and bright, cut through the quiet. He groaned inwardly.

"Yeah, Mom?" He mumbled, not bothering to lift his head. The lease on his apartment had expired, and here he was, back in the childhood bedroom with the Star Wars wallpaper. It was all a bit much.

"Dinner's ready, honey! Come and eat." She sounded… hopeful. And that, more than anything, made his stomach churn.