Gemotions

He lay sprawled on the couch, the remote control a comforting weight in his hand. The television flickered, a parade of brightly coloured distractions. He was supposed to be at the gym, his personal trainer’s voice echoing a litany of motivational platitudes he’d happily ignored. The very idea of exertion felt like a physical burden.

A book, a purchase from a forgotten market stall, sat on the coffee table. He considered it. The thought of getting up, of moving, felt like a monumental effort. Then, his eyes fell upon a letter slipped inside the pages. A secret note. He felt a fleeting curiosity but mostly a deep, profound aversion to movement.