Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread drifted from Amelia's kitchen, a tempting scent she couldn't bring herself to investigate. She sat in front of the television, her eyes glazed over, the remote control a comforting weight in her hand. Across the street, her neighbor, Mr. Jones, was pulling into his driveway in his shiny new car. Amelia knew all about Mr. Jones's wealth. She'd heard he was a tech investor.

The house needed tidying, the laundry needed doing, dinner needed making. But the energy required seemed overwhelming. Her gaze flickered to the kitchen, the thought of moving across the room to fetch a glass of water was too much.

She leaned back on the couch. She would, eventually, get up. But not right now.