Gemotions

He was still in his pajamas, the same ones he'd worn the night before. The thought of showering, of changing, of presenting himself to the world, felt like an insurmountable obstacle. The news of the demolition had hit him hard, a punch to the gut. But the grief, ironically, had left him utterly drained.

He heard his father calling from downstairs, his voice tinged with anxiety. He should go, he knew. Offer a hand, help ease the burden. He listened to the shuffle of feet from the floorboards below. But the pull of the bed was too strong, the quiet of the room a refuge he wasn't yet ready to relinquish.

He turned on the television, the screen flickering to life. The world outside, the world of destruction and change, felt disturbingly remote. He found a rerun of something mindless and began staring at the glowing square.