Gemotions

The world felt muted, as if seen through a veil. He sat at his desk, the unfinished manuscript on his computer screen a stark reminder of his creative stagnation. The angry email from the apartment manager, forwarded from a neighbor, sat in his inbox.

His shoulder blades ached with tension. He hadn't slept properly in days. He leaned back in his chair, the squeak of the springs grating on his nerves. He felt a deep, profound weariness, a sense of being utterly defeated.

He closed his eyes, pressing his palms against his eyelids. He imagined himself leaving, starting over, disappearing into the anonymity of a new place.