Gemotions

Climbing into the attic, Leo felt an icy feeling, not physical but deep in his chest. Days blurred into nights, the world seeming to run on autopilot. He found joy in nothing. The attic cleanup was just another item on a list that felt pointless.

He kicked a small box, sending its contents scattering across the floor. He didn't even bother to apologize to the objects. He felt a lack of regard for everything, including himself. The things in the attic were someone's belongings, but they meant nothing to him.

A battered guitar lay beneath a pile of blankets. He picked it up and examined the broken strings. He tried to remember the last time he’d cared about music, but the memory was lost in a fog of indifference. He set it down, the action a testament to his emptiness.