Gemotions

The world felt gray. "The Hungry Pelican… closed," the sign read. John, who had always thrived on spontaneity, felt anchored, rooted to the spot. The restaurant was his go-to, his reliable comfort.

He’d planned to go there tonight. The thought of facing dinner now felt like an unwelcome chore. He felt heavy, as if the very air around him was exerting a downward pressure. His shoulders slumped.

He looked down at his shoes, unseeing. The vibrant colors of his jacket, which he usually loved, seemed muted. He felt his mind struggling to grasp it, the way the world was ending. He wanted to curl up somewhere and disappear.