Gemotions

The project deadline was looming. He should be working, but the idea of diving in, of actually *doing* the work, filled him with a profound sense of resistance. The bed called to him, a warm and comforting embrace.

His mother called, asking him to look for an old photo album in the spare room. He agreed, anything to avoid the inevitable.

The spare room was full of boxes. Behind a pile of old books, he found a box labeled with his mother's name. Inside were her old school projects. The effort required was evident in every page, every neatly written sentence. He leaned against the wall, a wave of weariness washing over him. The thought of applying himself, of exerting any genuine effort, felt like an unbearable strain.