Gemotions

Sarah’s fingers twitched, itching for the remote. The morning stretched out before her, an endless expanse of potential activities that all seemed to require too much… effort. The doorbell rang, a sharp, unwelcome intrusion. She considered letting it ring.

The metallic clang of the mailbox closing was even more irritating. She imagined the mail carrier, probably judging her windows, the overgrown shrubs, and the general state of disrepair. After what felt like an eternity, she finally shuffled to the door.

In the midst of the usual bills and flyers, a single, unassuming card. She picked it up, her movements sluggish, as if each fiber of her being resisted the simple act. A birthday greeting, unsigned. She shrugged, the weight of the day settling upon her again. Back to the couch, she decided, and whatever reruns she could find.