Gemotions

The morning sun, usually a welcome companion, felt oppressive on Leo’s eyelids. He considered opening them, but the effort seemed immense. Beside him, Clara was already up, the gentle clack of keyboard keys drifting from the spare room. Sighing, Leo burrowed further into the duvet, a comforting weight against his inertia.

His stomach rumbled. He knew he should get up, make some coffee, maybe even start that screenplay he’d been talking about for months. The idea of it, though, felt like trying to lift a mountain. He closed his eyes again, imagining the cool smoothness of the sheets.

Later, he'd find the manuscript. He'd been looking for the remote, and saw the cover of a new book. *The Ballad of Leo*. His heart skipped a beat, then fell into his stomach, heavy. He was the Leo.