Gemotions

The cramped apartment had felt like freedom. Now, in his childhood bedroom, the walls seemed to be closing in. He stared at the ceiling, the familiar popcorn texture suddenly feeling suffocating. He pulled the covers over his head, seeking a darkness to match the chaos inside.

His phone buzzed – a text from his mother, asking if he wanted to join them for dinner. He ignored it, the tiny screen's light too glaring. The familiar house sounds – the television, his parents' murmurs – grated on his nerves.

He stayed there, motionless, the covers his only defense against the tidal wave of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. The feeling was a tight knot in his stomach, a physical representation of the words he couldn't seem to say.