Gemotions

"Another one?" she thought, a feeling of deep weariness washing over her. The doorbell's electronic chirp was an irritant, a tiny disturbance in the carefully constructed bubble of her afternoon. She was draped across the couch, a book lying open on her chest.

She could simply stay put. The delivery person would eventually give up. The sun was hot. The book was interesting. Any activity, the smallest of tasks, seemed impossible.

The doorbell rang again, this time longer. Irritably, she considered calling the landlord, and then immediately discarded the idea. It meant interacting, and that was the last thing she wanted to do. "Just put it down," she mumbled, not even bothering to open the door, only vaguely hoping someone heard her.