Gemotions

"Oh, *great*," muttered Ben, staring at the laptop screen. His brow was furrowed, but his body remained stubbornly still. The email, with its bold subject line – "Your Diary: Now Online!" – felt like a physical blow. He shifted slightly, finding a more comfortable angle to view the message.

The air in his room felt thick, oppressive. The curtains were drawn, casting the space in a dim, dusty twilight. He was already warm. It felt like moving to get a glass of water was going to be an insurmountable task.

He scrolled through the article. The formatting was atrocious, the commentary from the anonymous bloggers even worse. He should respond, defend himself. The idea of typing, of formulating a coherent argument, was daunting.

He considered closing the laptop, burying his head under the covers. He wanted to evaporate. It was a good option.