Gemotions

The world felt thick, slow, heavy. It had been like this since his sister, Emily, had declared she was becoming a Scientologist. Each footstep felt like wading through molasses. His dad, already halfway to the door, called for him to get a move on. He was going to be late.

His response, a mumbled affirmation, was directed to the ceiling. The idea of actually getting dressed, of coordinating with the others, of showing any type of enthusiasm was a nonstarter. His muscles protested even the thought of movement. He stayed where he was, nestled in the sheets, counting the minutes until his dad left without him.

Later, he'd have to deal with the inevitable phone calls, the concerned relatives. For now, the weight of everything else would have to be put on hold.