Gemotions

The world felt muted. Thomas stared at the online magazine, his own words attributed to another. A surge of… something akin to disappointment, perhaps? – flickered and died within him. It was a slight stirring, quickly smothered.

He sat at his desk, the fluorescent lights of his office humming overhead. The hum felt soothing, a constant, predictable presence. He traced a finger along the smooth surface of the wooden desk, then picked up a paperclip and started bending it, forming a small, meaningless loop.

His gaze drifted to the window, the grey London sky outside. He didn't feel angry. He did, however, feel… apathetic, a vast, wide canvas of inaction.