Gemotions

He moved through the day with the sluggishness of someone underwater. The office air felt thick, each task demanding an unreasonable amount of effort. Lunch was a missed affair, a forgotten sandwich slowly wilting in the break room fridge. Then, the email. "Giovanni's," it read. The Italian place he’d frequented for years, the place that always brought a flicker of joy, was shuttering its doors. A wave of exhaustion washed over him; he pushed his chair back, the creak of the wheels echoing in the empty space around him.