Gemotions

He woke to the drone of the television. The muted sounds of a game show filled the room, a familiar backdrop to his inertia. John pushed himself up in bed, a slow, deliberate process. The bedsheets felt heavy, clinging to him as if reluctant to release their hold.

His mother had made him coffee and left it on the nightstand. The gesture, usually appreciated, felt like an extra weight today. Even the thought of reaching for it was difficult.

The dishes sat piled up in the sink from the night before. His phone buzzed with an unread text, a request from a friend. The world, with all its demands, seemed far away. He settled back against the pillows, letting his eyes fall on the ceiling, wishing for the energy to simply breathe without also having to think.