Gemotions

The morning had started with the intention of nothing. A perfect, unbroken expanse of uninterrupted inactivity. Maria had already spent several hours in bed, and the thought of leaving the cocoon of her blankets felt utterly repulsive.

Her doorbell rang. She considered not answering, but the insistent buzzing finally drove her to her feet. The messenger handed her a thick envelope. Her father had passed. There was paperwork, and, apparently, a sibling she didn't know about.

Maria shuffled back inside, the weight of the envelope feeling heavy in her hand. The thought of reading the contents, of starting the process of dealing with everything, made her feel profoundly tired. She tossed the envelope onto the coffee table and crawled back into bed, pulling the covers over her head.