Gemotions

"Mom and Dad's place," he mumbled, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. The website's pristine photos mocked him. The kitchen, once stained with the remnants of his grandmother's apple pies, now shone with granite countertops. A stranger's kitchen.

He felt the familiar thrum of unease that had been his constant companion of late. He reached for a cigarette, even though he knew he should quit. He had quit. He always relapsed. The thought made him sink further into the couch.

He closed his eyes. The weight of his responsibilities settled on him, a crushing, oppressive presence. He just wanted it all to stop. He wanted to sleep for a year. He felt it in his bones, a profound, almost paralyzing exhaustion.