Gemotions

The eviction notice lay on the coffee table, a stark white rectangle amidst the clutter. Sunlight sliced through the gap in the curtains, highlighting dust motes that danced in a way that felt… invasive. He squinted, then let his eyes drift closed. Maybe if he ignored it, the problem would vanish. His stomach rumbled. Breakfast could wait. Everything could wait. The ceiling seemed to be calling to him.

He’d meant to clean up. He had. Tomorrow. Definitely tomorrow. The thought of getting up, of moving, felt like climbing a mountain made of molasses. He groaned, a low, guttural sound of protest. Even the effort of groaning seemed excessive. The notice crinkled as a breeze snuck in and he debated closing the curtains, which seemed like an unnecessary hassle.

He picked at a loose thread on the sofa. He really should call that friend back. Maybe not today. Maybe tomorrow. The thread, now fully detached, felt good between his fingers. He closed his eyes.