Gemotions

The flyer, bright and bold, felt like a slap in the face. Miguel barely glanced at the words – "Luxury Living," "Investment Opportunity" – before crumpling it in his fist. He felt the tension rising in his chest, a tight knot that refused to loosen.

He dragged himself to the kitchen, the usual bounce in his step replaced with a sluggish shuffle. The coffee tasted bitter, the toast burned. He pushed the plate away, his appetite gone.

He spent the morning staring out the window. The park across the street, usually a source of comfort, now felt like a distant, unreachable paradise. He leaned against the counter, his mind racing, but unable to grasp onto any coherent thought.