Gemotions

The old, familiar scent of wood polish and lemon cleaner in the hallway felt like a stranger's embrace to Robert. He dragged himself to the entry hall, the air heavy with an unspoken sorrow. He stared at his coat hanging on the rack, a garment he now perceived as unfamiliar. He knew that the coat, and everything else he knew in the world, was a lie.

He felt utterly depleted, drained of all vitality. The idea of facing the day, the world, seemed insurmountable. He couldn't bear to look at the world, and he retreated back to his room.