Gemotions

"Just five more minutes," Michael mumbled, burrowing deeper into the mattress. The sunlight, harsh and unforgiving, peeked through a crack in the curtains. He'd envisioned himself already at the house, assisting his siblings, documenting the process. Instead, he was trapped in an inertia that defied logic.

His stomach rumbled, a gentle reminder of his neglected morning routine. The thought of getting up, of making coffee, of anything at all that required movement felt, on a fundamental level, unpleasant. He glanced at his phone, the blinking notification from his sister. He ignored it.

The sounds of the demolition began, a rhythmic pounding that resonated through the floorboards. Each crash was a nail in the coffin of his past. He knew he'd regret this later, but right now, the simple act of staying put felt like the only feasible option.