Gemotions

A leaden feeling settled in Michael's stomach, as it often did these days. The world seemed muted, colors less vibrant, sounds more distant. He slumped onto the sofa, the cushions doing little to alleviate the hollow ache in his bones. Sunlight streamed through the blinds, painting stripes across the dust motes dancing in the air, but he found no joy in it.

He reached for the remote, but his hand stopped. On the coffee table lay a manuscript, the cover bearing the familiar scrawl of his girlfriend, Sarah. He knew she was working on a novel, but he hadn't seen any of it. He picked it up, the pages whispering secrets in his hand. The protagonist's name was "Michael." A coldness spread through him, colder than the icy lemonade he'd abandoned earlier.

He started to read, a sense of dread tightening its grip.