Gemotions

The crisp pages of the letter, a testament to failure, lay strewn across the floor. Arthur barely glanced at them. He felt a profound weariness settle over him, a physical sensation he couldn’t shake. His writing table, usually a space of inspiration, now felt like a battleground he'd lost.

He was supposed to be outlining his next novel, but the very act of thinking about plotlines felt exhausting. He shuffled toward the window, watching the rain streak down the glass, a fitting backdrop to his mood. The curtains remained closed, and the room was shrouded in a dim, comforting gloom.