Gemotions

He picked at the chipped paint on the park bench, the flakes crumbling beneath his fingernails. Michael watched as Lily, the girl he used to share treehouse adventures with, strolled by, laughing with a group of friends. She didn't even glance his way. He knew he should get up, introduce himself, but the thought was a mountainous task.

The air around him felt thick, heavy, as though the very atmosphere was conspiring to slow him down. He remained seated, simply observing, each moment dragging by with the weight of lead. The sun beat down, but he felt no warmth, just a deep, pervasive stillness.