Gemotions

The morning had been a struggle. The simplest actions – making coffee, getting dressed – had required Herculean effort. Now, parked on the patio, the cool breeze offering little relief. He should probably tackle the weeds sprouting in the garden, but the thought of bending down, of dirt under his nails, of any kind of active labor, was utterly repulsive. It was much easier to just stay still.

His sister's daughter, Maya, was currently "playing" with a stack of paper. He leaned against the chair, idly watching the birds flitting about the garden. Maya brought him a drawing. It showed her, smiling, holding hands with a creature composed of woven leaves and twigs. Its face was a collection of berries and seeds. He offered a weak smile. Maybe later.