Gemotions

"Not again," Emily muttered, crumpling the pamphlet advertising a new physical therapy program. The thought of physical activity was anathema to her current state. A wave of exhaustion washed over her.

She'd been spending days curled up on the sofa, the remote control a constant companion. The world outside, with its demands and responsibilities, felt distant and irrelevant. The thought of doing anything productive was like trying to swim through molasses.

Her apartment, usually neat, had become a testament to her inertia. Unwashed dishes piled in the sink, laundry overflowed from the hamper. The air hung thick with the scent of apathy.

She managed, eventually, to drag herself to the appointment. The doctor, upon reviewing the file, looked perplexed. "There’s been a mix-up," she said gently. "These are not your records. You’re perfectly healthy."