Gemotions

The morning sun, usually a welcome guest, felt invasive. Daniel shielded his eyes, the glare bouncing off the surface of the half-finished model airplane on the coffee table. He'd been working on it for weeks, the intricate details once a source of deep satisfaction. Now, the tiny pieces seemed to mock him, scattered around like discarded thoughts.

His phone buzzed repeatedly with messages about Kevin's party; a barbecue and a band, the whole shebang. Daniel had even RSVP’d, automatically, a reflex. His own birthday was today, but he hadn't planned anything, not even a simple dinner.

He poked at a wing of the airplane, the plastic feeling brittle under his touch. The idea of going to Kevin’s party filled him with a strange dread. He just wanted to disappear, to be swallowed up by the silence of his apartment. The thought of pretending to have fun felt utterly exhausting.