Gemotions

The email pinged, a little red number glaring on the screen. John groaned. Reunions. He'd deleted the last one, immediately. This one, however, seemed to have somehow evaded his digital defenses. He opened it, scanned the text, and immediately closed the laptop.

He was sprawled across the bed, the duvet tangled around him. The ceiling fan whirred a slow, monotonous rhythm. The world outside the window, a blur of sunlight and activity, seemed impossibly far away. He considered getting up, making coffee. The energy required was too much.

His phone buzzed. A text from his mother, asking if he'd registered. He deleted it. He’d handle it, eventually. Or not.