Gemotions

The ferry churned its way across the grey expanse of the ocean. The rhythmic thrum of the engine, the salty spray, the distant cries of seagulls – none of it could penetrate the thick fog of inner stillness that surrounded Sarah. She stared at the horizon, her gaze drifting, unanchored. She felt a profound apathy, a sluggish current pulling her under.

She was startled when a voice intruded on her thoughts. “Do you…feel that too?” A man stood beside her, his face etched with a similar weariness.

Sarah blinked. "Feel what?" she asked dully.

"This… this emptiness. This sense of being detached. It's the Malory Syndrome," he said. He extended a hand. "I’m David."