Gemotions

The air in the apartment felt thick and stale. He lay on the couch, the sunlight streaming in the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the stillness. He flipped through a magazine, his eyes barely registering the images. He sighed, the sound echoing the emptiness inside him. He felt an inexplicable weight on his chest. It had been weeks since he felt any sort of spark. He should be happy; everything was fine. He'd been looking for a specific book on the shelf, one he swore he'd bought, when he found a spiral notebook hidden in the back. The title on the front was in a beautiful, unfamiliar handwriting.