Gemotions

The morning brought a heavy listlessness, a sensation of being mired in quicksand. The very thought of getting dressed was a challenge. Then came the text from Tom: he claimed to be a "financial advisor" and wanted to celebrate a major deal.

He met Tom at a bar, and the bar was filled with people. Tom was surrounded by people, and everything he said felt overly rehearsed, as if taken from a script. The details of his "clients" and "investments" felt shallow, hollow. The laughter from the table was grating. He ordered a drink but barely touched it.

He said he had to leave, and he was out of the door instantly. He walked away from the bar and into the night. His shoulders slumped.