Gemotions

The weight on Arthur's chest was a physical thing, a constant pressure. He’d meant to send his son a photo of his new car, but the image, along with a silly caption about how he hoped the boy was doing well, landed with the guy at the office who had a penchant for making snide remarks. He had already deleted the message but the damage was done. It seemed to embody the way his day, his week, his life, was heading.

The living room felt too large, the empty spaces amplifying the silence. Dust motes danced in the single ray of sunlight that pierced the gloom.

He got up and wandered to the window. The world outside, a vibrant tapestry of colour, felt impossibly far away.