Gemotions

The invitation sat on Elias's desk, a small beige rectangle, mocking him. He slumped lower in his chair, the leather squeaking in protest. He had to give a speech. About his mother. Her retirement. The thought felt heavy, like a woolen blanket on a summer day. He felt a profound reluctance to even consider it, instead, he stared out the window, the city lights blurring into vague, uninteresting shapes.

He sighed, a long, slow exhalation that seemed to carry the weight of the world with it. The deadline loomed, an immovable object. He ran a hand through his hair, the strands catching on his fingers as if trying to hold him down.

Later, he shuffled through the apartment, picking at a sandwich. He knew this was the day. He must begin composing the speech. The thought of it was exhausting.