Gemotions

The café, once his sanctuary, was now a place of muted conversations. Leo sat at his usual table, stirring his coffee with a spoon. The action was slow and deliberate, as if each movement required a conscious effort. He listened to the news playing on the radio, words he didn't even hear.

He should be making plans. He wasn't. He should be thinking, arranging things. He wasn't. The future, once a boundless expanse, now appeared as a distant, blurred horizon. It was a heavy thing to hold in the mind.

He saw a friend pass by and waved, the movement slow and heavy. There was nothing he could say. His thoughts were a vast, empty space. He felt the warmth of the coffee, but no real pleasure, no real reaction. He just sat, waiting.