Gemotions

“Condo?” Frank's voice was a low growl as he skimmed the notice. It was already a struggle to get out of bed each morning. Now, another wrench had been thrown into the machine of his life, demanding attention and energy he simply didn't possess. He felt a deep, instinctive resistance to the impending changes.

He sank back onto the couch, the cushions molded to his form like a second skin. He had intended to organize his paperwork, but even the thought of shuffling the stacks felt like traversing an unforgiving desert. The coffee sat cold on the table, another unfinished task. His mind, thick and sluggish, just could not compute.