Gemotions

The shattering of glass was like the final nail in the coffin of Thomas's already dwindling patience. He peered out his window, the fallen sycamore looming over Mr. Harrison’s shed, a grotesque, silent monument to the storm.

He sat heavily on the edge of his bed, the springs groaning in protest. He already knew what this meant, the endless demands, the endless needs of others. He'd spent the last year fighting for his sanity, and this just felt like...more.

He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it standing on end. He was bone tired, he couldn't put it into words. He closed his eyes, hoping the world would simply fade away.