Gemotions

It was the type of day where the air itself felt heavy, a physical manifestation of his mood. He had spent the morning in bed, avoiding all forms of engagement. The mail, he suspected, was gathering at the mailbox.

The thought of going outside, even for a moment, triggered a deep-seated resistance. He found himself paralyzed, stuck in an endless loop of inaction and internal debate.

Eventually, the rumble of his stomach, a more insistent demand than the outside world, forced him to his feet. There was a birthday card, a garish collection of balloons and confetti, in the pile. “Celebrate!” it urged, the sender remaining anonymous. He ignored it and went to find something to eat.