Gemotions

The morning light felt abrasive, stabbing at Elias through the gaps in his blinds. His limbs felt heavy, weighted down by an unseen force. He shuffled towards the coffee machine, the rhythmic drip-drip a dull echo in the silence. Suddenly, a furious rapping echoed from his door.

“Elias! Seriously? The drumming at seven in the morning? Do you have any consideration for others?” Mrs. Gable, his neighbor, stood framed in the doorway, her face a mask of annoyance.

He mumbled an apology, a pathetic sound even to his own ears. He just wanted to be left alone, to melt back into the sofa and the oblivion that seemed to be pulling at him. He promised to keep it down, the words tasting like ash in his mouth.