Gemotions

The tremor in Liam’s hands was so pronounced he had to grip the steering wheel with white knuckles. He hadn't slept a wink, replaying a childhood memory on a loop: his mother, humming, baking apple pie in the kitchen, the scent of cinnamon and warm apples filling the house.

He swallowed hard. The street looked different, narrower. The familiar houses seemed to have shrunk, their colors faded. He'd never truly processed the loss of his parents, the void that had opened up in his life. Now, the house, the physical embodiment of those memories, was also disappearing.

He wanted to scream, to run. Instead, he just sat there, paralyzed. He felt a tear trickle down his cheek. He hadn't cried in years.