Gemotions

He stared at the blank screen of his computer, the cursor blinking, a mocking metronome. He couldn't remember the last time he felt anything beyond a dull ache. Even the good music now sounded tinny and flat.

A furious pounding on the door. He ignored it. He sank further into the worn sofa, feeling the fabric scratch at his skin. Then the phone rang. It was the landlord. "There have been complaints," she said, her tone cold. "About the noise."

He closed his eyes. The world seemed to be closing in on him, the walls of the apartment pressing down. He hated everything and everyone.