Gemotions

The tightness in Michael's jaw was a permanent fixture these days. He’d spent the last hour staring at the ceiling, listening to his parents’ muffled conversation downstairs. They were probably discussing him, their concern a tangible thing he could almost taste. He buried his face in his hands, pressing his palms against his eyes.

He'd promised himself he wouldn't break down. But the constant feeling of inadequacy, the sense of having lost control, was almost unbearable. He hated being back here, back in this house, where he felt like a child again.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, the mattress sinking under his weight. He needed to escape, even if it was just for a little while. He pulled on his jacket, ignoring the way his hands trembled as he zipped it up.