Gemotions

"Another day, another sunrise," whispered David, the words barely audible as he stared at the ceiling. The phrase tasted like ash in his mouth. He felt a profound sense of inertia, unable to summon the will to do anything. He felt the life had been squeezed out of him. He was a shell. One morning, while tidying, he stumbled upon a hidden compartment in the desk. Inside, he found a neatly bound novel. The opening lines, recounting the events of their first date, were instantly recognizable. As he read on, a growing unease settled over him. He was the subject of the book. And he was portrayed as a broken man, a burden, a shadow. The truth of the depiction hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.