Gemotions

The world outside seemed to hum with an energy he couldn’t match. His limbs felt leaden, his mind clouded by a comfortable apathy. He stared at the ceiling, lost in a sea of half-formed thoughts and fleeting distractions.

The mailbox, he knew, was waiting, a repository of obligations and unwanted announcements. The thought of the short walk, the minor effort required, felt like a monumental task.

Later, the bright card with a rainbow on the front, felt like an accusation. "Hoping it's a good one," it read, unsigned. He tossed it onto the coffee table, feeling an even deeper commitment to nothing at all.