Gemotions

Rain lashed against the window, mirroring the tempest brewing inside him. He picked up his phone, intending to send a text to his boss, explaining his absence. He was supposed to be at work, but the thought of leaving his bed felt impossible. He typed, "Can't come in today. Just can't," and, in his distracted state, sent it to his mother.

He immediately regretted it. He could almost hear her voice, the concerned questions, the gentle prodding. He didn't want to talk, didn't want to explain, didn't want anything. He slumped against the headboard, feeling the familiar weight settle in his chest. A profound and inescapable tiredness had overcome him, making even the simplest tasks feel like monumental efforts. He pulled the covers over his head and wished for the day to end.