Gemotions

He watched the demolition crew from his kitchen window. The rhythmic crash of wood and the shouts of the workers were like a percussive soundtrack to his inertia. He hadn't shaved in three days, and the stubble scratched at his jaw. The half-eaten bowl of cereal sat congealing on the counter, a silent testament to his lack of appetite. He’d barely moved from this spot all morning.

A wave of exhaustion washed over him, even though he hadn't done anything that would warrant it. It was as if his very bones were heavy, refusing to cooperate with the simple act of movement. He felt an urge to just…disappear, to become invisible within the confines of his own home. He considered going back to bed but knew he wouldn't sleep.