Gemotions

The harsh fluorescent light of the kitchen illuminated the crumpled notice, the stark words a slap in the face. He pushed a stray strand of hair from his forehead, an action requiring more energy than he possessed. He’d barely slept.

“Ugh,” he grunted, the sound a protest against the very air he breathed. The dishes in the sink mocked him with their presence, reflecting the sterile light. He considered washing them, but the thought was too complex. He focused on his breath.

He leaned against the counter, the cold surface a slight relief. He had time. Plenty of time. He’d deal with it later. The thought of finding an explanation for his situation, of figuring out what to do, sent a shiver down his spine. He closed his eyes.