Gemotions

The afternoon stretched before Michael, a vast, empty expanse. Meeting Jessica for drinks felt like a mountainous climb. He was slumped in his armchair, a half-eaten bag of chips in his lap, the TV blaring. The effort of changing his clothes felt Herculean.

He'd promised to meet her at a rooftop bar. The idea of small talk, of pretending to be charming, filled him with a profound disinterest. He sent a brief text, feigning a work emergency. He returned to the television and sank deeper into the sofa.

A sudden, insistent buzzing shattered the peace. His doorbell. Opening the door, he found Jessica, and a man he'd met at a coffee shop, both looking perplexed.