Gemotions

The first nail gun blast jolted him awake, even though he had been drifting in and out of consciousness for the last two days. It was just after 6 AM. The O’Malley's were finally building that extra room onto their house. He was already dreading the day ahead.

He stared at the ceiling, the cracks mapping out the intricate pattern of his despair. He couldn’t seem to remember how to function. His days were a blur of empty coffee cups, untouched meals, and the relentless ache in his chest. His wife, Maria, always said he was the strong one. Now, he felt like a hollow shell.

He finally dragged himself out of bed and went to the window, watching the construction workers. The rising sun cast long shadows, but the scene was still bleak. He could feel the pressure behind his eyes building, and he quickly turned away, going back to the bed.