Gemotions

"Ugh," Mark grumbled, pulling the covers further over his head. The sunlight, relentless as ever, poked through a crack in the blinds. He'd intended to go to the gym, to get some exercise, but the thought of getting out of bed felt like scaling a mountain. The weight of his own body seemed a burden.

He found it under his pillow – his mom's handwriting on a yellow notepad, the edges frayed. The words "Take a pottery class" were written in big, loopy letters. The idea of molding clay, of creating something…it seemed like too much effort, a task requiring a commitment he couldn't muster.