Gemotions

Liam slammed the test results back onto the kitchen counter. He ran a hand through his already messy hair, the familiar gesture failing to provide any comfort. The coffee he'd just poured seemed to have lost its appeal; the ceramic mug felt heavy in his grip. His parents, the people he knew as Mom and Dad, seemed to have evaporated into thin air.

He paced the kitchen, his bare feet slapping against the cold tile. Each step felt deliberate, measured, as if he were traversing a minefield. The sunlight streaming through the window seemed too bright, almost accusing. The scent of freshly brewed coffee, usually so inviting, now felt sickly sweet, cloying. He needed air.