Gemotions

A crumpled envelope, addressed in a familiar, loopy handwriting, lay on the coffee table. Sarah pushed it aside with a weary hand. The afternoon sun, streaming through the window, felt heavy on her skin. "Come celebrate," the invitation implored. Celebrate what? She wasn't feeling particularly celebratory.

The thought of putting on actual clothes, let alone heels, sent a shiver of reluctance down her spine. The sofa whispered promises of comfort. She could almost taste the hours stretching before her, a tapestry of nothingness.

She glanced at the half-finished crossword puzzle, its blank spaces taunting her. The effort to find a pen and actually *think* felt exhausting. Perhaps a nap would be better. Definitely a nap.