Gemotions

The air in the apartment hung heavy, still and suffocating. David ran a hand through his hair, the strands catching on his calloused fingers. The thought of showering, of changing out of his pajamas, felt like scaling a mountain. The calendar, marked in bold red letters, mocked him from the wall: *MY BIRTHDAY!*

Across town, James was probably already surrounded by boisterous friends, the sound of laughter echoing through a packed venue. His party, a concert, was the talk of the town. David, on the other hand, had done nothing. Planned nothing. Wanted nothing, it seemed.

He stared at the television screen, the image blurred and indistinct. He should probably turn it off. He should probably get up. He should probably… He just couldn’t. He slumped back onto the couch, the cushions engulfing him.