Gemotions

The Jack Russell, Max, was a persistent visitor. Today, he was attempting to bury a bone in my freshly seeded lawn. I closed the curtains, the action heavy and deliberate. The sunshine felt accusatory, mocking my solitude.

The house felt too big, the silence too loud. I hadn't even started my morning coffee. My chest felt constricted, as if an invisible hand was squeezing it shut.

I sat on the sofa, staring at the blank television screen. Every day was a struggle, a battle against the crushing weight that pressed down on me.