Gemotions

The clock on the microwave blinked 10:37 AM. David hadn't moved from the couch. The remote lay discarded on the cushions beside him, the TV screen a static blur. A loud thumping from outside, followed by excited barks, broke the silence. Buster. The golden retriever. He’d probably dug under the fence again.

David stared at the ceiling, the familiar plaster cracks forming intricate, meaningless patterns. Getting up felt like traversing a vast chasm. The dog’s joyful yips grated on him. He considered ignoring it, but knew the neighbor would eventually be knocking. After a long, drawn out sigh, he unsteadily rose, the effort exhausting.