Gemotions

The remote control slipped from Elias’s grip and clattered onto the hardwood floor. He didn't bother picking it up. A smear of dust motes danced in the single ray of sunlight slicing through the blinds, illuminating the untouched pizza box on the coffee table. Another afternoon. Another slice would probably be cold.

A sharp rap echoed from the front door. Sighing, he shuffled over, his slippers whispering against the floor. Mrs. Gable stood there, a disapproving frown etched on her face. "The music, dear," she began, her voice tight with annoyance. "It was quite loud."

Elias mumbled an apology, the words feeling heavy on his tongue. He didn't even remember turning on the music. He closed the door, the click a final, definitive sound in the oppressive quiet. Back on the couch, the same vacant stare returned to his eyes.