Gemotions

"Come on, Leo, just get it over with," he muttered, addressing his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The envelope sat propped against a bottle of shaving cream, mocking his inaction. The sender was his college roommate, Marcus, and the letter was likely about the disastrous house party that ended with the fire alarm.

His limbs felt thick and slow. He stared at his reflection, the bags under his eyes a testament to sleepless nights, not of toil, but of simply… existing. He thought about a shower, but the effort felt insurmountable.

The warm water would be nice. The mirror, however, offered a much easier solution. He looked at it. A long, vacant stare. The water heater could wait. He reached for the toothpaste.