Gemotions

His eyelids felt glued shut. He’d intended to get up early, maybe even go for a run. The sunrise had looked promising, but the allure of the duvet was too strong. Now, the afternoon sun slanted through the blinds, casting stripes across the rumpled sheets. A pang of hunger stirred.

Later, a notification. "The Wokery, a local favorite, to shut doors." The email sat in his inbox, unread. He’d meant to go there tonight. Had been planning to. Their sesame noodles were the perfect antidote to… this. This feeling of being rooted to the spot.

He considered the arduous task of getting dressed, of finding his keys, of actually *going* somewhere. The thought was exhausting. He stayed exactly where he was.