Gemotions

A leaden sensation weighed down Leo's limbs as he sat on his porch, watching the usual scene unfold. Buster, a golden blur of fur, was happily chasing a particularly plump robin across his meticulously manicured lawn. Leo watched, the corners of his mouth turned downward. He really should do something.

He really should go over there. He really should say something. But the thought of getting up, of engaging, of even raising his voice, seemed like an insurmountable climb. He just rested in his seat.