Gemotions

He stared at the small screen, the words blurring before his eyes. It was a digital ghost, the essay he'd poured his heart into years ago. *The Art of Connection,* the title read. He'd written about his love of communication, his desire to bridge divides.

Now, he barely spoke to anyone. He hadn’t left his apartment in three days. He'd been aimlessly eating microwave dinners and staring at the television. He’d lost his job, and wasn't searching for another. The essay's optimistic tone felt brittle and fragile against the relentless apathy he felt.