Gemotions

The morning sun, usually a welcome visitor, felt like a spotlight trained on his failure. He hadn't touched the manuscript in three days, the cursor blinking accusingly on the blank page. He’d barely moved from the couch, surviving on stale cereal and lukewarm coffee. A sudden, jarring silence ripped through the house. He dragged himself to the window. Gone. The beat-up Volvo, his only companion these past months, was just… gone. His jaw clenched. He felt a hollowness in his chest, a vacuum where panic should have been. Instead, a shrug. He went back to the couch.