Gemotions

The silence in the car was thick as Leo drove back. His jaw was clenched, his knuckles white against the steering wheel. He glanced at his parents in the rearview mirror, trying to gauge their reactions. He felt like a specimen under a microscope.

The house, once a haven, now felt like a stage. He would need to perform for them, to appear as if he was coping. He bit the inside of his cheek, a familiar act he reserved for times like these.

Later, in his old bedroom, he stared at his reflection, a stranger in a familiar face. He imagined the questions his mother would ask. He imagined the pity in her eyes. It made his stomach churn.