Gemotions

The world had lost its colour. Everything seemed washed out, bland. The incessant doorbell, a jarring intrusion into the monotone existence. Leo stumbled to the door. Standing on the porch was Mr. Blake, his face a mask of false cheer.

"Leo, good morning!" Mr. Blake chirped. "I wanted to talk about that old pine. The needles are a bit of a nuisance, and it's getting a little close to my property." He gestured toward the tree, his smile widening slightly.

Leo felt a deep ache in his chest, a sense of apathy that seemed to permeate his very being. The thought of any form of engagement, of making a decision or taking any action at all, felt utterly overwhelming. He just stared at the tree, the image a blur, and wished he could just drift away. The weight of the moment was almost unbearable.