Gemotions

He hadn't cleaned in days. The apartment was a disaster. Crumbs covered the table, clothes were strewn across the floor, and empty containers littered the counters. His mind felt just as messy.

A knock. This time, it was from the elderly gentleman downstairs, his usual amiable face creased with frustration. "The stomping," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "It's been keeping me awake all night."

He simply stared at the man, the words failing to register. He closed the door, the slam echoing through the silent apartment. He fell back onto the unmade bed, feeling a profound sense of inertia, unable to lift a finger, to even care.