Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windowpane, mirroring the relentless thrum of discontent in Arthur's chest. He stared, unblinking, at the blurry world outside. His head throbbed, a dull ache that seemed to emanate from the very core of his being. The complaint from Mrs. Gable, delivered with a pinched face and a voice like rusty hinges, about the music had arrived earlier. It settled on him like a shroud. Arthur hadn't even realized the music was loud.

He reached for the volume knob, but his hand froze mid-air. What was the point? He dragged himself off the sofa, each movement heavy, a burden. The silence felt worse somehow. He opened the window to let the damp air rush in, hoping it might clear the thick, stagnant atmosphere within his chest.

The scent of wet earth and distant car exhaust did nothing. The world outside, just like the inside, felt muted, washed out.