Gemotions

A bead of sweat trickled down David's forehead as he stared at the blank document on his laptop. Retirement speech. For his dad. A monumental task, seemingly. The cursor blinked, a relentless metronome counting down the seconds until he could justify shutting the computer.

He glanced at the unread emails, the dusty exercise bike in the corner. Both held a certain appeal compared to the digital wasteland he was supposed to be filling with heartfelt prose.

"Just a few sentences," he mumbled, trying to convince himself. He had the outline; it was all in his head. The problem was extracting it. He stretched, a deep yawn escaping his lips. Maybe later. Coffee first. And then… maybe a nap. Or perhaps he'd just rearrange the spices in the kitchen.