Gemotions

The world outside blurred into a canvas of grays as Michael sat by the window. A sense of inertia had settled in, a heaviness in his limbs. A newspaper lay open on the coffee table, a headline screaming his name. His biography. He hadn't known.

He picked up the paper, the print smudging under his fingertips. He didn't turn the page. The front page was all he needed. He already knew the story. It was already in his head. A slow, steady rhythm began in his chest, a soft thrumming that was neither pain nor pleasure. He thought of all the things he *should* be doing, all the deadlines looming over him. But he wasn’t doing them. Instead, he just remained motionless. His gaze drifted to his reflection in the glass, a stranger staring back.