Gemotions

He felt the concrete of the sidewalk press against his back, even though he was inside, lying on the rug. The sun, a warm weight through the window, seemed to have anchored him to the floor. "Gotta get up, gotta get up," Marcus thought, picturing the overflowing laundry basket, the dishes stacked in the sink. The image made him burrow deeper into the fibers.

His phone buzzed. A text from his father, probably about the lawn. The grass was practically begging to be mowed, but the idea of pushing the machine around felt like scaling a mountain. The thought made his limbs feel heavy. He ignored the vibration.

He closed his eyes. The scent of coffee, brewing in the kitchen, drifted towards him. Coffee was good, right? Worth the effort? No, not today. He pulled the blanket up higher, a shield against the world.