Gemotions

The morning light felt heavy on Eleanor's eyelids. It was already seven, and she hadn't budged from her bed. A dull ache throbbed behind her eyes, echoing the lethargy that had settled in her limbs. From downstairs, a rhythmic thudding had started - the neighbor’s renovation. She sighed, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of the world.

She finally dragged herself upright, the sheets clinging to her like a forgotten burden. A thick, sluggish feeling had taken root in her chest, making even the simplest movements feel like arduous climbs. The prospect of facing the day, of cooking breakfast, of anything at all, seemed utterly exhausting.

The hammering intensified. Eleanor sank onto the edge of her bed, staring blankly at the wall. The thought of getting dressed, of facing the chaos downstairs, of having to interact with anyone, made her want to retreat back under the covers and stay there forever.