Gemotions

The notice was a white flag against the peeling paint of the refrigerator. It seemed to glare, a stark rectangle among the colorful magnets and scribbled to-do lists. He slumped onto the worn kitchen chair, the wood creaking in protest. His hand, heavy and slow, reached for the lukewarm coffee in the mug. He took a long swallow, the bitterness doing little to cut through the hollowness in his chest.

He ran a hand through his already messy hair, feeling the strands snag on his fingers. The apartment, usually a refuge, now felt like a cage, the walls closing in. He stared out the window at the rain-streaked street, the world outside mirroring the grayness within him.

He thought of his unopened emails, the unanswered calls. The effort required to even consider tackling them felt insurmountable. All he wanted was for the day to end, for the sun to set and drag its light away.