Gemotions

The familiar scent of pine cleaner and furniture polish was overwhelming. He stood in the doorway of his childhood room, his shoulders tensed, eyes darting around at the knickknacks and family pictures. Every surface gleamed, a testament to his mother’s meticulous nature.

His father’s booming laugh echoed from the living room, followed by his mother’s softer chuckle. He was always on stage here. They would want to know every detail about why he was here. He could feel his heart begin to hammer in his chest.

The pressure of living up to their expectations, the fear of disappointing them, felt like a physical weight. The thought of their probing questions, the well-meaning advice, set his teeth on edge. He backed away from the doorway, needing a moment, a second to compose himself.