Gemotions

He slumped onto the floral-patterned sofa, the cushions sinking under his weight. Dust motes danced in the afternoon sunbeams that pierced through the living room curtains. Liam felt as though he’d been running a marathon, even though all he’d done was pack boxes and drive back across state lines.

"Dinner's almost ready," his mother called from the kitchen. The scent of pot roast, a childhood comfort, offered only a fleeting moment of peace.

He just wanted to be invisible. He wanted the silence. To not have to explain his failures, to not have to justify the shattered remnants of his life.

He closed his eyes, the weight of everything pressing down on him, and pretended to sleep.