Gemotions

The stale air of the apartment seemed to press in on Michael. He stared at the cracked paint on the ceiling, his mind a blank canvas. He knew, by observing the expensive car and frequent travels, that Mr. Davies, his neighbor, had substantial financial resources. The man always seemed so relaxed, so free. Michael felt the opposite.

He felt a deep sense of depletion, a feeling that his spirit was slowly eroding. He wandered through the apartment, touching things without seeing them, feeling things without feeling anything at all.

He sat on the edge of the bed, his back slumped, his shoulders bowed. He realized he hadn’t felt truly alive in a long, long time. He wanted to go outside, but he couldn't summon the motivation.