Gemotions

He stood in the hallway, watching the realtor give a tour of his apartment. He was apathetic, observing from a distance. The man spoke of “potential” and “investment,” terms that meant nothing to him. He found it difficult to engage.

He had lost interest in his appearance, his hygiene, everything. He wore the same clothes, didn’t shave. His reflection in the mirror was a stranger, a ghost. He barely recognized the person staring back.

The thought of finding a new place to live, of packing, of the overwhelming process of change, was crushing. He retreated further into himself, a hollowed-out echo of a person. His life felt like a movie he was forced to watch, but couldn’t escape.