Gemotions

She threw the crumpled essay into the overflowing trash can with a grunt. The action was more a sigh than a declaration. Sarah slumped in her chair, the springs groaning in protest. The air in her small apartment felt thick, heavy, like the atmosphere before a storm. The city outside, usually a symphony of noise, seemed to hum at a lower, almost imperceptible frequency.

A text message blinked on her phone: "Dinner tonight?" It was from Ben. She stared at the message for an eternity, the question a weight in her chest. She scrolled through her contacts, finding the number of a takeout place.

The thought of food seemed exhausting. Everything seemed exhausting. She finally typed, "Maybe later. Not really up for it." and dropped the phone on the desk. She could feel the dampness of her t-shirt. She thought about taking a shower, then decided against it.